By a Thread
by doncellerespire
Summary: After a horrific murder leaves Beth's sister a widow, she drops everything - her apartment, her job, her boyfriend, and relocates to Atlanta. She's lucky, there's an open position, and they seem to think she's qualified. Now a rookie homicide detective for Atlanta PD, will she be able to deal with her less than amiable partner, and solve a case that's quickly going cold? Bethyl AU.
1. Pilot

**Hello everyone! This is my first attempt at a Bethyl, or really writing anything that heavily involves Beth's POV so I'm really hoping I do her justice. So reviews would be more than appreciated, either positive or constructive which ever appears to be necessary. These chapters are going to be kind of on the long side I think, which will also mean a bit of time between updates. I'll try to keep at least weekly, but it may end up being more or less, depending on how much free time I've got haha. I'm going for a slightly police procedural vibe, so except for big overarching arcs each chapter will be one case. Unless I do something special with an episode and it doesn't have a case. **

**Warnings for descriptions of violence, drug use, cursing, descriptions of dead bodies, and later on some sexual situations. **

**I really hope you guys like this, and I can't wait to hear back from you guys! Thanks so much for checking out this story! **

**Episode 1 - Pilot**

Family first, that's what her Daddy had always said. Family first. She looked to her Daddy now, throat tightening when it seemed like he was holding back tears too. Maggie's hand tightened around hers, and Beth tried her hardest not to tremble as the reverend's solemn voice rang over the graves.

Other than prayers and the wind it was such a quiet day, sunny. Glenn would've liked it. Her lips twisted into a sad sort of smile, and the tears started to burn. She was going to miss him a lot.

Ever so slowly, the casket started to sink into the ground. A strangled noise came out of Maggie's throat, and Beth couldn't help it anymore. The burning eased as tears spilled over, lip trembling as she desperately tried to hold back a sob. The casket was almost gone under the edge of the grave, his headstone in view.

Glenn Rhee

Loving Husband. Dutiful Officer. A Brave Man.

April 25, 1985 - April 2, 2014

* * *

><p>"So, how's Atlanta?" Amy asked, dragging out each syllable. Somewhere in the background there was a crash like she was searching through the pots and pans.<p>

"I dunno," Beth kicked her legs back, eyeing the pale blue polish on her toenails. No one was going to actually see her toenails today, but she still thought they looked cute, "Sunny? Hotter than I remembered." Actually it was a lot hotter. She'd only come back home to Georgia for Christmas time the past couple of years, and after seven in New York...well to say the least Maggie had spent the last couple of weeks yelling at her to stop cranking the AC up so high.

"Getting back to your country roots?" Amy laughed. Her best friend, Boston born and raised, had always found Beth's southern accent to be cute. Cute in the way that you called the short friend cute, 'cause it's funny to watch the murder in their eyes. Beth didn't exactly reach murderous intentions, but the sentiment was the same. Amy had been teasing her about it since their freshman year.

"Yeah," Beth humored her, exaggerating her southern lilt into a full on twang,"Was gonna go wrassle some hogs 'afore work."

"Oh yeah!" Amy exclaimed, and Beth held her iPhone a bit farther from her ear, "First day of work! I almost forgot! How's that going?"

"I don't know." Beth said, rolling over, "Haven't been there yet."

"You met your partner?"

"Nope." Beth still felt mildly annoyed about that, "I have his phone number - texted him when I got down here, invited him to coffee-"

"No response?" Amy interrupted her.

"Nope." She popped her p's, and sat up quickly.

"What was his name again?" Amy asked, Beth could practically feel the giggles on her best friend's lips.

Beth took a breath, "Detective Daryl Dixon." The giggles bubbled up through the phone. Amy had nearly had a fit the first time Beth had told her, something about Daryl Dixon being the 'most redneck-ass name she'd ever done heard of'. It took Amy a moment to calm back down again. "So?" Beth started, "You seen Zach since I left, or is he just moping in his room?"

"The boy toy has so far kept it in his pants, as far as I know, if that's what you're worried about."

Beth rolled her eyes, smiling, "No! Does he miss me?" She'd met Zach while in college, he was getting his MBA, she was in her junior year as a criminal justice major. Things were nice between them, or at least they had been until two months ago. They were trying though, she loved Zach, she wanted to make it work...regardless of the situation.

"Yes, Beth, of course," Amy said, "I caught him in the tub sniffing your shampoo." Beth started laughing as Amy went on to describe how much of a mopey puppy Zach had been since she'd left for Atlanta. He wasn't exactly happy with the situation, but he'd always been a doting boyfriend, and apparently that didn't change once her side of the bed was empty.

She didn't know when she'd get back to New York, if she'd ever get back to New York. There was so much going on...and it was the Greene's motto, 'Family First'. Maggie's last name might be Rhee now, but she was still a Greene; and if she needed her sister, she needed her sister. Beth wasn't going anywhere.

She sighed, listening to Amy go on about New York, and her own job as a dentist. She had a small practice on the Upper West Side, and more often than not had a few regaling tales of incredibly difficult children. Apparently one of them had tried to bite her the other day. With a sigh she smiled nostalgically, it had only been a couple weeks and she was already homesick.

Her eyes flitted up to the clock. _Shoot._

"Amy! I'm so sorry," she jumped up, trying to shed her pajama shorts with one hand as she ran for the bathroom, "I'm going to be late! I'll talk to you-"

"Hey!" A different voice came out of her iPhone, "Hey, Detective Greene, where do you think you're running to?"

"Work, Zach." She laughed, pulling off her underpants before reaching to turn on the shower. He must have woken up early, really early. The two of them and Amy shared an apartment, and out of the three Zach slept the latest on his days off. She had to be at work at six AM, it was nothing short of a miracle he'd gotten up.

"You gonna catch those criminals for me?" He asked, "I don't want to gunned down when I come to visit you."

"Like you won't get gunned down in New York." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, now that my sexy police officer isn't roaming the streets I might."

"Do your best not to get shot Zach," she laughed, "Now I really need to go!" She started to pull the phone back from her ear.

"Hey! Hey Detective Greene!" He said.

"What, Zach?" The water was almost hot enough now.

"I love you," he said, and she smiled.

"I love you too." With that she hung up on him, tossed her phone on the counter, and jumped into the shower. She couldn't afford to be late.

* * *

><p>It was five fifteen. If she broke a few speeding laws she'd be able to make it all the way from Maggie's home in Atlanta's suburbs, and be there with a few minutes to find parking. She downed a glass of orange juice and grimaced, she'd forgotten she'd just brushed her teeth. Suddenly not wanting to taste anything else she grabbed her keys, and went to try and find her shoes again.<p>

She'd bought them back in New York, cute black flats that went well with the skirt suits she'd bought for the job. She almost missed the shapeless black NYPD uniform she'd worn the past few years on the force, at least she didn't have to worry about looking presentable. The uniform just always kind of, presented itself. Now she was a homicide detective, and she had to look fancy and professional.

Where were her shoes?

"Maggie!" She yelled, dashing out of the mudroom and into the kitchen, "Maggie! Have you seen my shoes?" Had she left them in the living room? Frantically pushing furniture around she waited to hear her big sister's footsteps on the stairs, she needed to be up in a minute anyways, today was Maggie's first day back to work too. Beth frowned, eyes settling on a framed photo on the wall. Glenn and Maggie were holding eachother, smiling, Glenn was pointing proudly to the badge on his chest.

Beth had had a bit of hero worship going on when Maggie first got engaged, Glenn was kind of like a big brother, but better. He was fun and cool, and he was everything Shawn was without the annoying over protective streak. Glenn was the reason she'd decided to join the force in the first place, it was that or singing, and singing wasn't exactly a guaranteed career.

"Maggie!" She yelled again, as her older sister appeared on the landing.

"You had them in your room," she said. She looked tired, with heavy bags under her eyes, and frown lines that Beth was pretty sure hadn't been there last Christmas.

"Already checked."

"Mudroom?" Maggie tried again, heading down into the kitchen. Her hands absentmindedly searching for the coffee maker.

"Nope." She really needed to get going, "Never mind, I'll just...grab something else." Five minutes later she was back with a pair of kitten heels, which weren't exactly perfect, but they were technically in dress code. Maybe she'd get lucky and not have to chase anyone today.

Running for the door she double checked that her keys were in her purse, "Love you!" She kissed Maggie's cheek.

"Wait!" Maggie stopped her, and Beth's chest clenched at the look in her eyes, "Promise you'll ask?"

"Maggie…" Beth started, "You know if they knew anything…"

"Please." Maggie's voice was starting to sound dangerously close to pleading. Lord knew Maggie had never begged her little sister for anything.

"I'll ask." Beth wasn't sure if she should, or that it would even do anything. Glenn was family, she probably wouldn't be allowed to work his case. Still...Maggie had been getting restless, there hadn't been any news in weeks. Three months since Maggie had found him hanging in the garage, and they didn't know a thing other than he hadn't done it himself.

"Thank you." Maggie kissed her cheek, and Beth ran out the door.

* * *

><p>It was five fifty five when she finally tore through downtown Atlanta, and into APD's parking deck. Technically she knew it was illegal to be speeding, she was a cop after all, but it was only ten miles over, and quite frankly she was about to go solve murders. There had to be some leeway there.<p>

It was going to be hot today, again, in the mid nineties, again (could it really only be early June?). The fact that her dinky old Camry's AC had given out years ago didn't help either. So she kept the windows down, even at six in the morning it was still warm - her hair looked like a mess, but it was better than her walking into work covered in sweat stains.

She just had to park, walk across the street, and find her department...in five minutes.

She nodded to herself impatiently, racing up the ramps, this was great. It was really just her luck that she'd gotten a spot on the seventh floor. Fifth, sixth, how many people worked here again? It felt like forever till she saw the big gray seven painted on the concrete walls. Alright, seven sixty, seven sixty one, two, three, seven sixty four. The only open spot left on the whole floor, she frowned, it was really narrow. A faded blue pickup was parked backwards on one side, a van that was really pushing the line on the other. She was going to have to try real hard to avoid that van.

She swung wide, and then sharply turned right, pressing the gas. Her bumper was only a few feet from the truck's when a horn blared and she yelped, slamming on brake. Eyes wide she met a very intimidating glare from the truck's driver. It was hard to make out his face in the dingy parking deck lighting, but he had shaggy brown hair, and a sharp jawline with a bit of scruff. He was wearing a leather too.

"Hey!" He snapped, leaning out the window, "Watch where the fuck you're goin'!"

"Sorry!" She called, waving awkwardly and his expression didn't change...good. _You go, Beth. Makin' friends. _He didn't acknowledge her apology, just scowled and looked down at the radio. Quickly she backed up and pulled in a little bit straighter. Part of her really hoped truck guy would leave so she wouldn't have to pass him, but she only had four minutes to get there now.

Keeping her eyes low she took her bag, and walked between her car and the truck. _Just don't look up, Beth. Just don't look up. _

She couldn't have gotten farther than five feet past the truck when she heard its door open and close. She pushed her shoulders back, doing her best to just keep her eyes on the wall in front of her. The guy had a long stride from the sound of his footsteps, and he was closing in quickly.

"That your spot?" The thick southern twang came from a few steps behind her as the smell of cigarette smoke hit her nose.

She paused for a moment, "Yes?"

"Then you better learn to fuckin' park, blondie," he growled as he overtook her, stalking away. She decided to slow down a bit, let him get farther ahead.

What a promising start to her day.

* * *

><p>"Detective Greene?" The man asked, extending a hand. She took it, he had a firm handshake and kind eyes.<p>

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Sergeant Rick Grimes, your supervisor," he said, nodding for her to follow, "We spoke on the phone."

"Yes, sir." He seemed nice, but seeing as she'd walked in late she felt like 'yes, sir' was a good line to stick to.

"Sergeant Lyman, back at the NYPD, he called too. Gave you a damn good recommendation." Her boss back in New York had always been fond of her, he said it was something about her glowing personality. She was pretty sure it was because Amy bought her donuts her first day on the job, and Beth had been willing to share. "You were a detective up there for…" he prompted.

"A year," she said, "I worked property cases mostly...robberies and stuff." She had never really expected to end up working Homicide, but she'd needed a job and Lyman had said she'd be good for it, so she took what she could get. She had a feeling she was going to be in Atlanta for a while...Family First.

"You ever been on a murder scene?"

"Only once when the body was still there" she said, as he showed her into what appeared to be a little break room. It was nothing fancy, gray carpet, gray walls, disturbingly gray looking coffee, "I was closest to a mugging gone wrong, back when I was a street officer."

"How'd you take it?"

"Fine. Don't get to be upset in situations like that." She said. It was mostly the truth, she'd gone home and cried in the shower. While she was working she was working though, and she just had to deal with it. She'd be fine now, she was pretty sure, it had just been a shock that first time. The guys brains had ended up all over the alley wall.

Rick nodded, apparently approving of her response, "You met Dixon yet?"

"No, sir. I haven't." Beth responded, though she really wished she had. She didn't know anyone yet...not even the man she was supposed to be working with.

"He's a good cop, knows what he's doing. You're in good hands with him...just, don't let him scare ya off." Beth was about to ask what that was supposed to mean, but Rick kept on going, "Well ladies locker room is back through that door if you want to keep your stuff in there. Could start bringing clothes to change into later if you wanted. Briefing room is to the right, second door on the left - can't miss it, big glass windows - be there in fifteen. We'll get you your gun and badge after."

"Thank you, sir," she said as he walked out the door, and she turned towards the locker room. Time to start working.

She pushed the door open quietly, though it turned out it didn't matter how quiet she was - the room was barely bigger than a closet, and everyone had a good view of the door. Not that everyone was a lot either. Two pairs of dark brown of eyes were watching her, two pairs of dark brown eyes attached to two startlingly beautiful women. One was black, with thick, long dreads pulled back into a ponytail. The other looked Latina, with full lips and a tight black bun.

"Hi," she smiled shyly, "I'm Beth."

"Ohh," the black woman, smiled, realizing who she was, "You're the new girl huh? Greene?" Beth nodded, "I'm Michonne Everett, and this my partner Rosita Espinoza."

"Nice to meet you," Rosita said, offering her hand. Beth shook hers then Michonne's, "So you're Dixon's new partner, huh?"

Michonne's eyebrows shot up as she let out a short, barkish laugh, "Oh, sweetie, good luck." Beth had a sudden sinking feeling that he hadn't just blown off coffee cause he was busy.

"Is he…?"

"An ass?" Rosita supplied the proper adjective, "Yes." Beth bit her lip as she set her things in the locker someone had kindly labeled with her name.

"He can't be that bad can he?" She asked, closing the door. Rosita and Michonne just looked at each other, and Beth nodded, "Good," She muttered, just a touch of sarcasm leaking into her voice.

"Don't get us wrong," Rosita said, checking her mascara in a little pocket mirror, "He's one of the best detectives we got, he's just…"

"Difficult," Michonne finished. Beth must've looked mildly frightened, 'cause the older woman was quick to reassure her, "Don't worry, he'll probably warm up to you eventually, he's just a grump." Rosita laughed. Difficult...she could do difficult. Her brother was ten different types of overbearing and annoying. Hell Maggie wasn't exactly a walk in the park all the time either...she'd been a bit more subdued recently.

"So, he's less of an ass if you just wait a while?" Beth asked hopefully. She was going to be stuck with this guy for god knows how long, she'd like them to at least be on speaking terms.

"I guess. He and Carol were like this," she said with a soft smile, holding up a cross index and middle finger, "Don't think she would've willingly spent off time with him if he didn't have a bit of sunshine under the redneck attitude."

"Why's Carol not working with him then?" She asked, maybe Daryl would just be a temporary thing. They'd get her a different partner later on. The atmosphere got heavy real fast, and she guessed that she'd be stuck with Dixon afterall. Michonne had a thin frown across her lips as she shut her locker.

"We lost her a few months back," Rosita said, slipping the mirror back into her bag, "Dixon took it pretty hard."

"On duty?" Beth asked, brow furrowing. She had friends back in the NYPD who'd lost their partners while working, they'd been out of it for months afterwards...it was rough. Michonne shook her head, Carol had died another way, but apparently Beth wasn't getting much more of an answer than that.

"C'mon," Rosita said, opening the door, "We've got five minutes, we can grab some coffee before Grimes starts talking."

The three of them stepped out into the breakroom, and Beth nervously eyed the coffee machine. Michonne must of noticed her watching as Rosita poured out a weirdly gristly looking cup of coffee, "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks."

"Really?" Beth raised an eyebrow.

"Nah. Coffee sucks ass." Michonne laughed, taking the pot and pouring a cup for herself. Caffeine was caffeine apparently, potentially toxic or not.

"I think I'll go ahead and pass," Beth said, "Meet you guys there?" She asked as she walked for the door.

"Yeah," Rosita nodded, "See ya there Beth."

* * *

><p>The briefing room was about as simple as the break room. Thin gray carpet, and pale, blue-gray walls. There were desks set in rows on either side of a projector pointed towards a whiteboard. Honestly she kind of felt like she was in highschool all over again. So far all the seats were empty, there were papers set on the desks, but none of the other detectives had shown up yet. It was almost six thirty, they should be coming in soon.<p>

Right now, she was just standing there awkwardly, trying to figure out where she should sit. Each of the desks had two chairs, and she had absolutely no idea if seats were assigned or not. Though she assumed she'd be sitting with her partner, she had no idea where he normally sat - and honestly was a little nervous to ask based on everyone's less than stellar reviews of Detective Daryl Dixon - at least personality wise - not that she knew what he looked like anyways.

At least she didn't have an audience while she stood there looking like an idiot. With a resigned sigh she started wandering up and down the rows, looking for any sign of where she was supposed to be. She knew they were adults and all, but name cards sounded really useful right about now.

Maybe she should have waited while Michonne and Rosita finished their coffee, they could have told her. She'd almost given up and gone to stand in the corner of shame, or slink back to the break room, when something caught her eye. A manilla folder sat on one of the desks towards the back, Daryl Dixon, was scrawled out in blue pen.

She decided she might as well sit down and wait. Not like she knew what else to do.

Slowly people started to file in. Some came alone, heading straight to their seats. Others stood about chatting with their partners, or with the other detectives. Beth just kept her head down, and started poking through her bag for pens and a notepad. She figured she'd probably need to write something down.

Seats were filling, and no one had come to take the one next to hers. Michonne and Rosita walked in with a Latino guy of average build and a kind of burly black guy. They sat down next to each other, so she was pretty sure they must be partners. She hadn't caught the Latino guy's name, but Michonne had called the black guy Tyreese.

Rosita smiled at her from her and Michonne's desk. Beth smiled back, not sure if she should get up and go talk to them or not.

Rick came in, and still, no Dixon. She glanced anxiously at the door, she really didn't want to be the new girl sitting alone - whether her partner was an ass or not, she'd feel better just having someone beside her. Except then the door closed with a final thud, and she looked up to see the last man standing: Her partner. She could feel her ears turning pink as she met his brilliant blue eyes. It wasn't the eyes that were making her blush though; it was the messy brown hair, and the scruff along a well defined jawline.

He'd traded out his leather jacket for a suit, but it was him. She was forcing down the incredible urge to put her head in her hands as he looked at her, and realized who she was too. A look of vague annoyance settled onto his sharp features.

She set her gaze very firmly on the front of the room as the chair beside her was pulled out, and Daryl sat down. This was great, this was really, really great. She didn't have to look at him, she could just feel him next to her. There was four or five inches between them, but she could still feel him sitting there, smelling like cut cedar.

This was going to be a long day, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>The meeting had been long and confusing. They spent a couple hours going over evidence from cases she didn't know about, while Rick asked questions she didn't know how to answer. She had taken more than a few forensic science classes, and she knew a lot of what they were talking about...it was just a lot to process at once.<p>

Dixon didn't prove to be all that helpful either. At least not to her. He'd answer Rick's questions in his surprisingly gruff voice, and once or twice made a mildly scathing remark towards one of the other detectives. Michonne had been right, Daryl Dixon was a damn good at his job. Right now she kind of felt like she'd been thrown head first into a whirlpool, but she could tell he knew what he was talking about. Everyone else could too.

Michonne had been right about the other part too, he was kind of a jerk. Not necessarily mean, just a jerk.

She'd tried to talk to him once the meeting was over. He'd reluctantly accepted a handshake, muttered his name, and then said something about doing paper work and 'finding her if he needed her', and disappeared. Rick had given her her gun and her badge, and led her to a small office with a view of the street below.

She'd never had her own office before. It was nice.

Nice and clean, right until Dixon had sauntered in, and tossed a box full of case files on her desk and told her to 'start readin'. So that's what she did. Apparently he and Carol had been working a lot of cases, at least twenty, some as recent as a few months ago, others as old as years. They didn't seem to be organized in any particular order, just thrown in a pile. There were no new cases, nothing earlier than April. She kind of wondered if Daryl had done anything new on since Carol died, maybe he'd taken some time off or something?

Wasn't her place to ask.

She took out her laptop and started to try and make sense of the first file, a hit and run. DVDs of the CCTV from that night were uploaded, and her personal notes made as she read over everything. She'd take these home tonight, start running typed up reports and handwritten notes through the scanner, get them on her laptop too. She quickly figured out how to distinguish Carol's handwriting from Daryl's. Hers was neat and looping, whereas his was and angular, scrawling mess.

It was nearly an hour later when she finally closed that first file, her head already hurt. She'd been a detective before, she knew how to sort through evidence, there was just a lot. She'd watched the CCTV tapes at least four times each, desperately trying to figure out how to make out the license plate of the SUV. Whoever had done the job had taken the light off their tags. It looked like Daryl had found a few leads, just nothing definitive.

"Greene." The door opened, apparently Dixon didn't think it was all that necessary to knock. He didn't wait for her to respond, just leaned in the threshold, and said, "We've got a call." With that he ducked back down the hall, and left her scrambling to pull her things together.

"Dixon, wait!" She yelled, desperately wishing she'd found her flats and didn't have to be running in heels. He didn't turn around, but he stopped, broad shoulders stiff as he waited at the end of the hall.

He didn't look at her once she'd caught up, just kept walking, "C'mon, we're taking my truck."

"Where?" She asked, and he glanced down at her as he punched the down button on the elevator. "Where's the case? What's the case?" Daryl didn't exactly seem to be a man of many words. She suddenly found herself missing her old partner, she and Oscar could talk for ages about pretty much anything. All she could see in her future with Daryl was a lot of awkward silences. _No_, she mentally scolded herself, _Rick seems to like him just fine...so what if he's kind of surly. I'll just...give him a chance. _

"Domestic disturbance," He said as they stepped into the elevator, "out in Kirkwood about an hour ago. Time the cops got there husband was gone. Wife and one of the kids are dead." He said it so analytically, cold and concise. Beth did her best to conceal a frown, something in her gut was twisting at the thought of seeing a kid's body. She shook her head, she didn't get to be upset, Daryl certainly wasn't - and she needed all the credit she could get with this guy.

"Are the other kids-"

"One of 'em's at school. The other's only a few months old, won't remember it." He assured her. Seeing something like that when you're just a kid...she took a deep breath. _See that though?_ She told herself, _That almost could have been him trying to comfort you. Almost..._

The pair stepped out of the elevator. It was a lot brighter downstairs and she had to squint a bit as the sunlight poured through the windows. She glanced up at Daryl, though she didn't know what she was expecting to see. His face just had that impassive scowl. At least she didn't get the feeling that he particularly disliked her. He definitely didn't like her, but he seemed to treat everyone like this. Didn't make it any more pleasant, but at least she knew she wasn't special.

He didn't bother with walking up to the crosswalk, just jumped out into the street. She glanced each way, he was cutting it close, but she wasn't just going to walk half a block when he was liable to chew her out for it. She'd seen two sides of Daryl Dixon so far, 'I don't give a shit', and 'I give just enough of a shit to be pissed about it'. With a deep breath she darted out after him, heels tapping on the asphalt as she ran after her partner.

"Ya sound like a damn horse," he grumbled as they stepped up onto the sidewalk on the other side.

"Yeah, well it was these or go barefoot," she quipped back. She was trying very hard to give Dixon the benefit of a doubt, but she was starting to realize the full meaning of the word difficult. Michonne had been spot on there too. She did her best to walk slightly ahead of him, but she was slower in heels.

"How long you been workin'?" He asked, pulling a set of keys from his pocket as they waited for the up elevator.

"A year as a detective in the NYPD." She decided to leave out that she hadn't worked homicide before, but she figured he'd probably known that already...if he didn't he'd figure it out, "Four as a street officer before that."

"How old are you?" His brow furrowed as he looked at her.

"Twenty six, why?" The elevator opened.

"Ya look like a kid," he said as the door closed, and they started to go up.

"Well, I'm not." She kind of liked him better when he was tall, dark, and silent.

"You work homicide 'afore?" He asked. Four more floors to go.

Well he'd know now, "Nope."

His lips twisted into a mildly exasperated looking scowl. "Just don't fuck up then, alright?"

Beth nodded, lips tight. She really hated the anxious butterflies fluttering their way up from her stomach to her chest. Lyman had said she'd be good at this job, found it for her, got it for her. Still...she shook her head. _Don't fuck up, Greene._

* * *

><p>Blue and red lights were still spinning when Daryl ducked under the police tape, flashing his badge to the cop monitoring the perimeter. She followed behind, lifting up the tape herself, as she fumbled for her own badge.<p>

"Detective Beth Greene," she said, flipping it open for the cop.

"Don't really care, sweetheart." He said, nodding her along. She blinked, a bit taken aback.

"Dixon!" Beth glanced up, Daryl was already walking away. A uniformed officer was waving him over. Giving the cop at the tape one last awkward glance she rushed after her partner. "Who's this?" The officer asked, looking to Daryl. She was pretty - though she looked kind of tired - dark hair pulled into a tight, low bun. Her mouth was stern, and her eyes narrowed.

"Detective Beth Greene," he said quickly, and his mouth twitched into a bit of a frown, just for a moment, "New partner."

The officer looked her over once, "Dawn Lerner," she introduced herself. Then turned nodding for them to follow into his house. "They're in the kitchen. Pretty nasty…" She said as they turned the corner from the hall. The living room of the little one story was separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. The place was pretty messy - dirty clothes and balled up snack wrappers. Food caked dishes were still stacked in the sink, a cup of watery coffee on the counter.

Her stomach twisted when she saw the bodies though. Blood was spattered across the floor, the cabinets under the sink, "They were shot from above," Beth commented, voice strained as she tried to keep this mornings orange juice down. Daryl glanced at her, and she really hoped she didn't look as pale as she felt.

The woman's body was slumped over, head pressed to a little boy's chest at an odd angle. Her eyes were still open, a neat little hole just off center, a bit of congealing blood trickling into her left eyebrow and down towards her nose. The kid was young, a little boy no older than four or five.

"Kid was shot first," Daryl said, eyes cold as he looked at the bodies, "Mom must've dropped to her knees, was tryin' to get to the kid when she was killed." Somewhere behind them a baby cried and Beth glanced back, an officer held a child in a stained yellow onesie, looked like it was just starting to get the first wisps of hair.

"Knew them." Dawn crossed her arms, "The whole family...her name was Layla, Layla Martin. Her son," she nodded to the boy, "Charlie. The older sister's name is Lilly."

"The baby?" Beth asked.

"Don't know...haven't been here for almost a year now. Frank must've cleaned himself up while Layla was pregnant." She frowned, looking away from the mother and son, "Used to be called out here all the time, Frank got mean when he was high...he was in and out of state all the time."

Beth glanced back at the woman, Layla, a pretty fresh looking bruise marred her jaw. A bit of blood was smeared from her mouth.

"You got any idea where he went?" Daryl asked, as another cop slid past them into the kitchen, and started laying down yellow evidence markers.

Dawn shook her head, "The car's still in the drive, but there was a call came in for a stolen SUV three streets over. Blue nineteen ninety six Ford Windstar."

"Think he took it?" Daryl asked, crouching to get a better look at the bodies. "Gloves?" He glanced over at the cop with the markers.

"It's possible." Dawn nodded, as Daryl snapped on the white rubber over his hands, "We've got the plates, already sent out the word. He passes an officer he'll get caught."

She couldn't see what Dixon was doing, he had his back to her, suit jacket stretched tight over his shoulders as he reached around Layla Martin. "The gun still here?"

"Lot's of guns still here. Could've been any of them, Stookey's on his way...they'll run ballistics when they're back at the morgue." Daryl straightened again, turning as he stripped off red stained gloves, "For now we're labeling him armed and dangerous," Dawn continued, "We've been searching the back rooms, a lot of unregistered weapons, don't know what he has on him."

"Kid was holdin' a vial of somethin'...think it's coke, ain't sure."

"Bello," Dawn nodded to the other officer in the room, "bag it." God she felt useless, she'd hardly said more than a few words...her eyes just kept flitting over Charlie Martin's open blue eyes.

"You think the kid might've tried to take it from him?" Beth asked, and Daryl and Dawn looked at her for the first time in a while, "I mean...do you think that's what made Frank snap?"

"Hell, coulda just been playin' with it." Daryl frowned as Bello plucked the vial from the little boy's hand, and zipped it in a plastic bag. Beth grimaced, the bodies had jiggled a bit. "Mind don't work right on this shit." He said it like he knew from experience, frown lines pulling a bit deeper. He didn't seem like the hard drugs type...though she guessed he'd probably seen enough of the stuff. Lord knew she'd handled more than a few druggies up in New York. "Y'already talk to the neighbors?" He asked.

Dawn nodded, "They called in once they heard things breaking. Don't know where he could've gone though."

"Would they know his friends?" Beth asked, "Names. People we could try an' get in contact with?" Daryl's eyes met hers, and he gave her the slightest nod. A weird, warm sensation spread through her chest, mixing oddly with the cold nausea that was rising in her throat. Good to know Lyman hadn't been totally wrong in recommending her for this.

"I'll get someone on it," Dawn said.

"The kid," Daryl started, "The older sister, where she go to school?"

"Coan Middle, she's a sixth grader." Dawn sighed heavily, mouth tightening.

"Greene," he nodded to her, heading out of the kitchen. She followed as he called back to Dawn, "Send those names to me as soon as you got'em!" The pair walked back through the living room and out into the yard. The ambulances had gotten there, a few EMTs unloading gurneys and a bodybags. An officer was out on a rather abused looking porch chair, cradling the baby in his arms.

"Social Services gonna come for the other kids?" She asked, and he nodded, hands going to his pockets as she started down the steps. He followed behind, picking their way across the small, unkempt yard.

"Where're we -" she was cut off as they reached the edge of the crime scene.

"Sweetheart." The cop at the tape's lips spread in a smarmy grin, she wasn't sure what caused his attitude change, but the look he was giving her made her feel like he might've taken a second look while she had walked up to the house, "You feelin' okay, look kinda pale." His hand started to move towards her face.

"Fuck off, Gorman," Daryl growled, putting a hand on Beth's shoulder and shoved her under the tape as he lifted it. "Stay away from him," he said as they approached his truck, "guy's a creep."

"I noticed," Beth muttered, opening the passengers side door. "So where're we goin'?"

The Ford roared to life, "Coan Middle School."

* * *

><p>Beth had never done this before, though she was sure Daryl had. He'd been working this job for years...it was hard to tell anything under that stony face of his, she wondered if he was used to it yet. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. That cold, nauseous feeling was creeping up on her again as they walked through the doors of Coan Middle.<p>

The whole place was linoleum and dingy, used-to-be-white cinder blocks. Kid's art covered the walls, and a trophy case stood off to the right. She pushed back a frown when she saw the secretary, busy with something at the front desk.

She'd asked Daryl why they had to do this, why Social Services wasn't. He'd looked at her like she was stupid or something. Wasn't like she was going to back out, she wasn't looking forwards to it, but she wasn't going to back out. She'd just been curious. Either way, she'd lost the brownie points she'd gotten with him for suggesting they ask the neighbors for Frank's friends.

She'd gotten her answer though, "Our case, our job." They were the ones who'd be working with the family, they were the ones who'd tell the family...even if the family was an eleven year old girl and her two months old baby sibling.

The secretary, a plump black woman with a very pretty face, smiled when she saw them. Daryl didn't smile back, so Beth smiled for the both of them. Or at least tried to, her lips weren't really feeling it today.

"How can I help you today?" She asked, looking a bit off put at Daryl's sour expression.

"Daryl Dixon," he said, holding up his badge, "This is Beth Greene," he nodded back towards her, "We're detectives with APD. Need ta speak with a girl named Lilly Martin, should be in the sixth grade."

The secretary's smile faded as she picked up the phone, and her voice blared out over the intercom, "Lilly Martin to the front office. Lilly Martin to the front office." The phone clacked as it was put back to the receiver, "She'll be with you shortly...is there anything we should be notified of." Daryl nodded, "Principal's office is down the hall, last door on the right. I'll send her in there."

Daryl started off, and Beth followed. Apparently he could knock on doors, he just didn't seem to think it was necessary for her office.

"What can I do for ya today?" The principal, a rather portly white guy with red cheeks, asked.

"Detective Daryl Dixon," he flipped his badge again, "This is Detective Beth Greene, we're with the Homicide Division of Atlanta PD."

The principal's brow furrowed, "Please, take a seat."

"This morning," Daryl started, easing into one of the plastic chairs in front of the principal's desk, "One your students, Lilly Martin-"

"I know her. Is everything alright?"

"Her mother and little brother were shot this morning, sir." Beth spoke up.

"Oh Jesus," the principal, his name plaque said Jonathan Brown, breathed out heavily. "Do you know -"

"Her father, Frank Martin, is our prime suspect right now-" Daryl was cut off by a little knock on the door. Mr. Brown called for them to come in, and a little girl with mousy brown hair entered. Lilly Martin.

"Am I in trouble?" She asked, right off the bat, "Cause I swear I didn't do nuthin." She looked like she she was ready to protest further, but soothed her.

"Don't worry, Lilly. You're not in trouble. We just...we have some people here who need to talk to you." The little girl eyed them suspiciously, "This is Detective Dixon and Detective Green, they're with the police."

Beth glanced over at Daryl. She had no idea how to start this. She had no idea if Daryl could start this either, he wasn't exactly mister compassion as far as she could tell. She'd been guessing that Carol must have handled most of these things. She hadn't heard a lot about the woman, but people seemed to like her, and she'd been enough of a saint to put up with Daryl Dixon for lord knew how many years.

Suddenly, he stood up, "Here kid," he spoke gruffly, though not unkindly, nodding towards his vacant chair, "Why don't ya take a seat."

Lilly shook her head, "I'm okay...this is about my Daddy isn't it?" She asked it as if it were something that happened all the time.

Beth held her breath, trying to keep the emotion off her face as Daryl responded, "Lilly…" Daryl crouched down to her level, there was an odd softness in his blue eyes as he took in a breath. Maybe she'd been wrong, "This mornin', there was a problem...your, your Mom and your little brother, Charlie-"

"They're dead aren't they?" Lilly asked, a frantic tone reaching up from her voice and into her eyes. Beth took a deep, quiet breath.

Daryl didn't say anything for a moment, she watched his chest rise and fall, "I'm sorry."

The little girl didn't scream, or fall - her little hands just balled up into fists, and her face drooped, and Beth got this odd feeling that she was crumpling up inside as her lip started to tremble, "What?"

"I'm sorry, " Daryl said again, "Wasn't anything we could've done -"

"Did someone kill them?" The girl's voice cracked, "Did my, my -"

"I'm sorry, Lilly." Daryl confirmed her suspicions as the tears started to fall, one then another, and then a stifled sob as her face twisted up. Beth looked away just as one of Daryl's large, callused hands settled on the girl's dainty little shoulder.

Beth closed her eyes. She wasn't going to get used to this.

* * *

><p>It had taken three hours just to scan all of those reports, and Daryl and Carol's notes into her lap top. It had taken another hour and a half to download everything else for the next case, and start taking her own notes. This was a crime of passion from the looks of it, most everything pointed towards the victim's husband. It was almost tied up, evidence compiled, trial dates set...only problem was the suspect was rich as hell, and his lawyer had a record of getting bastards like this off.<p>

She sighed, closing out the folder she'd made on her laptop, and clicking the "create new" button. Next case.

"Beth?" Maggie squinted, it was one thirty in the morning. "I didn't hear you come home." Maggie had been going to bed pretty early these days, actually she slept a lot in general these days. She'd been dead out when Beth got back at nine, and from the way Ceasar, Tyreese's partner, had been talking back in the break room - she was lucky she was getting off at nine.

It was good to be somewhere that wasn't Daryl's truck, or the office across the hall from his. Anywhere where he could pop his head in and make one, gruff comment that somehow felt as bad as getting yelled at. She'd been playing a bit of music while she sorted through that god awful list of possible contacts, and he'd come in and essentially told her to turn it off and insulted her taste in all of ten words.

Half an hour later he'd given her a withering, impatient glare when she still hadn't finished tracking down all the contacts for Frank Martin. He could've done it if he thought he'd do a better job. Ten names, a variety of vague descriptions, one place of work. There were fifty two Francisco Hernandez's in the Atlanta metropolitan area alone, forget anyone who might drive into town.

Her head still hurt, but Daryl hadn't been giving her any slack. So she popped some advil, drank a cup of coffee, and resolved to finish notes on at least half of the cases. The faster she got caught up the better.

"What're you still doing up?" Maggie asked.

"Work," Beth responded shortly.

"Did you…"

"Shit!" Beth cursed, and Maggie's brow furrowed, Beth didn't swear very often, "I'm sorry Maggie, I forgot."

"You forgot?" The edge in her older sister's voice was apparent.

"I said I was sorry okay?" She knew she shouldn't be getting testy with Maggie, she'd been through a lot since Glenn died, "I had a long day."

"Beth, you promised."

"And I'm sorry!" Beth looked up from her laptop, "It just...slipped. My partner's a jerk, and I almost ran into his car this morning, and he's been on my ass the rest of the day, and I've got all these reports to catch up on...and I had my first case today."

Maggie's gaze softened a bit at that, "Was it...?"

"Bad?" She asked, and Maggie nodded, "It was a kid. A four year old kid and his mom...Dad's an abusive addict from the sounds of it…"

"I'm sorry." Maggie sat down in the chair next to her, a hand going to her knee.

"We had to tell and eleven year old her family was dead." Beth still felt kind of sick about that...more than kind of.

"Does she have a place to stay?" Maggie asked, and Beth nodded.

"Her grandma's flying down from Minnesota, gonna take her and the baby up there after we're done asking questions." She and Daryl were going down to Social Services in the morning, see if Lilly might know where her father had gone. She hadn't exactly been in a good state to talk to today...it was past midnight, technically it was yesterday. Though she didn't know if she'd be any better off the next time they saw her. "Look I'm sorry, about not asking around...I'll do it tomorrow, I promise."

Her phone buzzed on the end table between their two chairs. Zach's most recent text popped up, the previous three below it.

"You've got twelve texts from him," Maggie commented, looking at her with a frown as she scrolled down the list. "Three from Amy."

"I know." Beth took the phone and set back on the table, "Been busy."

* * *

><p>She'd actually managed to find those flats today, and her feet were very very grateful. Her eyes, on the other hand, were pissed. They burned, and struggled to stay open, and she was getting dangerously close to heading into the break room and grabbing a cup of that gray, disturbingly textured coffee.<p>

She'd gotten through five cases instead of ten, but if she did five a night she'd still be caught up by the end of the week. Instead she'd kept searching for the other names on her list, she'd pretty solidly identified four more. She was at seven now, and working towards her eighth when Daryl sauntered in - once again unannounced, and stared at her.

He did this a lot. He'd take a moment to actually say what he wanted from her, just stared at her like she'd figure it out through some sort of passive telepathy. It gave her anxious butterflies low in her stomach, and she could feel his eyes burning into her, but she didn't look up. He wanted her to acknowledge him, he better talk.

"Greene," he caught her attention in his low, raspy, 'I haven't had my coffee yet voice'. Apparently he was the only one who might avoid the break room coffee as adamantly as her. He'd been complaining about how he didn't have time to stop and get his own this morning (by complaining she meant he muttered a couple of pissy sounding sentences), but she was happy he wasn't complaining to her about her for once. "C'mon, we gotta go."

She nodded, grabbing her stuff and meeting him at the door. They walked down to the elevator in silence; and to the truck, in silence; and drove the first fourteen minutes, in silence. Dixon didn't say a damn word to her until he suddenly parallel parked in front of a starbucks, and started to get out.

"Wait!" She said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a ten dollar bill, "Get me one too? Tall, dark roast, touch of cream, no sugar."

"How the hell you drink coffee without sugar?" He asked, looking at her like she'd grown an extra head or something.

"I dunno, gets a funny aftertaste when I put sugar in it."

He shook his head, muttering something along the lines of 'crazy girl' and 'don't like fuckin' sugar' as he shut the door. A few minutes later he was back with a tall and a grande that he was already gulping though it had to be scalding.

"You're gonna burn your tongue like that," she said as he handed her her cup. He ignored the comment, taking another swig, setting it in his cup holder, and taking off again.

* * *

><p>"So, your dad." Daryl was comfortably leaning back in the chair across from Lilly, almost looking casual, "Can you tell me anything about him?"<p>

Beth glanced between the two of them, pen poised to take notes. Daryl had said he'd handle this, if she had any pressing questions she'd speak up, but for now she figured she'd just watch.

"You mean like, where he is?" Lilly asked. She wasn't crying anymore, though her eyes looked red. Her grandma sat next to her, hand over her granddaughter's, looking like she'd been crying just as much. Her daughter and grandson were dead after all.

"If you know." Daryl said.

"She doesn't," Lilly's grandmother, Miranda, quickly cut in.

"Let the girl answer for herself," he said, sounding a bit less than friendly. The woman was caring, and loved her granddaughter. She was just stressed, and kind of overbearing.

"I don't."

Daryl nodded, "Did your dad ever bring anyone over to the house a lot? A dealer maybe?"

Miranda stiffened, " , she's a child!"

"She's old enough," he said, and turned his attention back to Lilly, "Ever mention one? Maybe stop by their house when he picked you up from school?"

"A man came by pretty often," Lilly started, Miranda looking immensely uncomfortable. "I don't remember his name...I think it started with an M. I tried to stay in my room when he came by."

"You remember anything else about him?"

"He was white, middle aged, with a buzz cut. And he had a thick accent, like yours, like he was from out in the country." Miranda made a short, snorting sound, and Daryl's eyes flicked coldly up towards the old woman for a moment, "He rode a bike too, like a motorcycle."

"What kind of motorcycle?"

Lilly shrugged, "I dunno...it was old."

Daryl blinked, and a kind of annoyed look crossed his face for a moment, though she had absolutely no idea who he could be mad at right now, "This man...his eyes, what color were they?"

"Blue. Really light blue."

Daryl nodded, suddenly packing his things.

She frowned, kind of odd question to end on. She guessed it could help i.d. him, but blue eyes weren't exactly uncommon. There had to be a thousand blue eyed white guys who rode vintage bikes in Georgia alone, and she was sure plenty of them would have the first initial M, and at least a handful of those would sell drugs.

"Dixon…" she started as he stood, they'd hardly even started asking questions.

He ignored her, "Thank you," he muttered, looking at Lilly, "You've been helpful."

Had she? Had any of this been helpful? Before she could ask he was out the door, glancing between the door, and the girl and her grandmother she got up and threw her things into her bag.

"I'm - I'm sorry for you loss," she said sincerely, and ran after Daryl. "Hey!" She called, catching up to him "Hey, what was that?"

"Guy's an addict," he explained as she struggled to keep up with his brisk stride, "first things first he's gonna head for his dealer. If he ain't still round, we might be able to get some information on where he's gone."

"Yeah, got that." She said, still feeling very confused as they stepped out into the parking lot, "What I'm wondering, is _how_ we're going to find him. Cause blue eyed guy with a bike is a pretty weak ass excuse for a warrant, cause last time I checked, dealers ain't too happy about people bustin' into their houses unannounced."

"Don't need a warrant," he said nonchalantly.

What the hell was going on? "Where are we even going?"

"We ain't." He said, hopping into his truck, locking the doors, and driving off.

"Dixon!" She yelled, running after him, "Dixon!" He tore out into the street, and roared down the road. "Great." A very bitter smile crossed her lips, "Just perfect."

* * *

><p>She'd been in a bad mood again when she got home. She didn't have money for a cab, and had no one who could come pick her up, so she'd walked. Walked for an hour and a half, all the way back to Downtown Atlanta. Her feet and heels were covered in blisters from flats that weren't meant for walking long distances in, and her leg ached, and really just wanted to take a nap.<p>

She couldn't though, cause if Dixon was going to be an ass and run out on her, she might as well be productive in the meantime. Four hours later, a complete contact list of names, and six more reviewed cases she finally dragged herself the forty five minutes back home.

It was almost eight o'clock when she walked in the door, and from the look on Maggie's face, Beth was pretty sure she knew she'd had yet another sucky day.

"You wanna talk about it?" Maggie asked.

An hour later, Beth was complaining about the utter disaster that was her two day old partnership with Daryl Dixon. From his surly attitude, to downright ditching ten miles from their office. By the time she'd finished the first glass of wine she was feeling looser, and the chinese take out had arrived. Maggie was suggesting she take a bubble bath, and thankfully not asking about Glenn, cause Beth was already feeling pissed. She didn't want guilt on top of that - a glass of wine might turn into half a bottle and a good cry in the shower...it had been a rough couple of days.

Rough couple of months.

"No, he's a total jerkwad!" She said, opening up her container of rice.

"Beth, sweetie, you're twenty six. Even you know looks and personality don't have to match," Maggie teased, and Beth rolled her eyes, "So? C'mon is he at least fun to look at?"

"He's-" She didn't get to finish the sentence, cut off by a heavy knock on the door.

"I'll get it." Maggie jumped up. She was in a good mood today, maybe it was the wine. She'd always been a happy drunk. They hadn't exactly made it to drunk yet, but healthy buzz was a good word. She was planning on getting drunk though, hangover be damned.

"Beth there?" A familiar voice echoed down the hall, and she groaned. Maggie invited him in, and she groaned even harder. Then she remembered what she was wearing - she'd already changed into her favorite pj shirt, the one that hung down to mid-thigh so she wouldn't need to wear pants. Right then, she was about ready for the lord to take her. Jumping up, she was about to run upstairs, at least find a pair of sweats, but it was too late. He'd seen her.

He blinked, eyes going up and down once in surprise. She felt just as surprised when he looked at the ground. Wasn't that he expected him to be creepy, just that she hadn't expected his ears to go all pink. She wouldn't exactly call herself presentable, but it was just her legs - he'd see more if she wore shorts and a tank top.

He looked a bit haggard. Suit rumpled, tie loosened, hair messy. Maggie was standing behind him, glancing between the man and her sister with wide eyes.

"Get dressed," he muttered, not looking at her, "I found him. Warrant's already gone through."

"Yeah…" Beth said, going back to confused - if too startled to be annoyed, "Be right back." With that she darted up the stairs, and to her room, Maggie close behind. The door shut, and Beth started searching for anything to wear - pulling on a pair of jean shorts and a comfy blue tee. She really didn't want to pull today's clothes out of the hamper, and using another work outfit would mean having to do laundry a day early. Anyways, putting those skirt suits on took ages anyways. She needed to go arrest the guy, not audition for America's Next Top Model.

"Is that Daryl?" Maggie asked.

"Yes, that's Dixon." Beth said, pulling the shirt over her head, and starting to throw things around. Where'd she put all her socks?

"I wouldn't call him the next Patrick Swayze or anything, but he has a nice ass." Beth chucked a book at her, missing and hitting the wall instead. Socks, she'd found socks. "Face ain't bad either, kinda bad boy looking."

"Oh my God, Maggie. Shut up. He hears a word of this, and I swear to God I'll kill you." Maggie just laughed. Beth glared at her, pulling her socks on, and running back down the stairs. Daryl didn't acknowledge her appearance this time, just waited for her to pull on a pair of shoes - she winced as they squeezed over her blisters.

Gun and badge clipped to her belt, she dashed out, and Daryl slammed the door behind them - his truck was still running on the curb.

"How the did you even find him?" She asked.

"Found his dealer." He said as the truck's engine turned over and they took off.

"_How?"_ Apparently he still wasn't going to answer that question. She rolled her eyes, glaring out the window as they sped towards the highway. They must've been heading out of Atlanta, "Did you even have a good reason for ditching me today?"

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me?"

"Nope.

She held back the urge to groan. Daryl Dixon was the most impossible man she had ever met.

* * *

><p>A bullet proof vest was handed to her as they surrounded the little abandoned cabin out in the woods. Apparently Daryl had called for backup - Dawn and Gorman were there, so was Rick. Frank Martin was only man, but he was only one man who, for all they knew, was as high as a kite and could have anything from a Baretta to an AK-47 with him. Vest on and gun drawn, she slowly creeped through the knee high grass.<p>

It had been nearly an hour drive out there - she still had no clue how Daryl had found the place. He'd have to write it in the final reports wouldn't he? She was allowed to read those, if he wouldn't tell her she'd just have to wait and find out herself. She glanced at him, stalking through the grass just a bit ahead of her. Maggie was right, he did have a pretty stellar ass. She shook her head, she had a job to do, and a boyfriend back in New York.

No room for Daryl Dixon's ass.

She winced as the old, rotting wood of the porch creaked and groaned under their weight. Rick and Daryl were in the lead, she just behind. The cabin was small, no more than one or two rooms. There wouldn't be a lot of room for Martin to hide. Daryl gently, quietly, jiggled the door knob. He shook his head, locked.

'Three,' Rick mouthed, counting on his fingers, 'Two,' he dropped another, 'One.' Daryl slammed into the door, rickety wood easily giving way under his weight as they rushed in, guns up.

"Hands up!" Daryl yelled to an empty room. It was hard to see in the dark, but they were definitely alone. Rick gestured for Lerner and Gorman to go check around back as the three of them went over the room for safe measure. Slinking along the floor, the silence was only broken by the creak of wood under their feet, that is, until the door opened.

She'd thought it was the backdoor, but as her feet left the ground, and the wind went out of her. She figured that maybe it wasn't. Everything was spinning as she tried to wriggle around, find the gun that she'd heard skitter across the floor. Between the man straddling her chest and the hard hit on the floor, she was struggling to breath as she kicked out - trying to get a knee into his back.

Her hands were pinned between his thighs, and while he didn't have a gun, metal flashed as he raised his hand.

"Greene!" Someone yelled. She struggled, and kicked, and wham. The weight disappeared as two men crashed into the coffee table, Lerner and Gorman rushing in the door as Daryl slammed a fist into Martin's nose. Beth coughed, trying to get her lungs working again, trying to find her gun. Not that she needed it anymore, Dixon was slapping handcuffs on Frank Martin, and Rick was helping her to her feet.

She let out a shaky breath. Day still hadn't gotten better.

* * *

><p>"I should have seen the door, should've been more careful." Beth said, not really expecting Daryl to respond. She just wanted someone to hear her say it. She felt like an idiot. And like she shouldn't mention the glass and a half of wine she'd drank before going out to arrest a potentially dangerous man.<p>

Daryl glanced over at her, one hand on the wheel as they rolled through Georgia's backroads, headlights cutting a path in the dark. "Just don't do it again, Greene." He muttered, sounding about as tired as she felt. It was two in the morning, and they were still an hour out of Atlanta.

"He gonna stay in state this time?" She didn't like the idea of him getting out, finding those kids - Lilly, and the baby, Macy.

"If Andrea does her job right."

"Andrea?" She asked, head lolling back a bit. Her eyes really wanted to close.

"DA."

"I know an Andrea," she mumbled, "My best friend's sister. Andrea Harrison."

"She a lawyer?" He asked, and she nodded, "Blonde, blue eyes, square jaw?" He asked, and she nodded again. "Probably the same one."

"Huh, should go say hi to her," she muttered sleepily, "Amy never mentioned she was the DA down here." Her stomach rumbled, and Daryl glanced at her again. She hadn't eaten since breakfast...he'd kind of dragged her away from dinner.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything else, but fifteen minutes later they were turning off the road and into the parking lot of a rather remote Waffle House. Fifteen minutes later he had a plate of steak and eggs in front of him, she had a blueberry waffle and a nice hot cup of coffee. It was quiet for a while, just listening to the chatter of a the five unfortunate workers on the graveyard shift.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, Zach was texting her again.

"You gonna get that?" He looked at her, and she shook her head.

"Can I ask you something?" He just grunted in response, and she figured that was the go ahead, "Did you know Glenn Rhee?"

His eyes left his plate and found hers, mouth still full of food, he chewed slowly as he nodded, and then swallowed. "Yeah, met him a few times. Drugs Unit, we overlapped more than a few cases." He took a sip of his coffee, "Shame, he was a good guy."

She blinked. Praise from Daryl Dixon was about as rare as a miracle. If anyone deserved though, it was Glenn, "Yeah, yeah he was."

"You know him?" He asked.

"Brother in law. You met his widow tonight, my sister, Maggie." He bit his lip, nodding, "When she found out I was working down here she practically begged me to look into it for her."

He shook his head, "Ain't allowed to work cases like that, fucks with your judgement...too personal." He sounded pretty bitter.

"S'what I told her...I dunno she's just frustrated I think. Hasn't been any progress."

"Everett and Espinoza got that case," he said, taking another bite of steak, "Think he pissed off some drug trafficking gang, or cartel or somethin."

"You believe that?" She asked him, looking at him over her coffee mug.

He shook his head, "Hanged him, didn't just want him dead, wanted people scared. Gang would've owned up to it by now, put a mark on the body in the first place...warnin' to other cops not to fuck with'em again. Whoever this is don't want us knowin' who they are." He glanced up at the clock, "C'mon, Greene, get a box for that." He stood, "I'll take ya home."

**Woo first chapter, and holy shit it's long. I was expecting it to be long, but not this long at all. Well I hope y'all enjoyed, and I hope to hear back from you. Constructive or positive, I just wanna know if you guys like it. Something seems terribly off with characterization or anything and I can even go back and edit this before I start the second. **

**Thanks so much for reading! I hope to see ya soon! **


	2. Positive

**Hey guys! I'm so grateful for all of the reviews! I don't think I've ever had such a big (or fast) response to any of my stories before. Well here we are, second chapter. I hope you guys like it! This fic takes a lot more pre-planning than anything else I've written. For most of my fics I just kind of start writing, have a basic sequence of events in my head. I actually need to know what I'm talking about this time haha, I've been doing research and making outlines, and plotting way ahead in advance (Bright side to that though is I've got a wee bit of foreshadowing going on here and there). **

**But here we are finally, and I hope you guys enjoy it. **

**Once again, thank you to everyone who has followed or favorited this story. And a special thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, mle537, Kije999, jess, brady66, BethylOn, Ela1980, fsun1621, wellthatdepends, lisasays, nourgelitnius, Karoline, Guest, sederiana, and other Guest for the reviews on the last chapter! **

**Episode Two - Positive**

It wasn't that she wasn't given a lot of time for lunch, it was just that she never took that time all that seriously...or maybe the problem was that she did take it too seriously. No one else took much of a lunch break either so she figured this was what it was going to be like from now on. Bagged lunches swallowed whole in the break room - supposing she hadn't been up so late the night before that she'd just stumbled from the shower, straight to the coffee maker, and out the door. Or days like today: walk half a block to the nearest convenience store and do your best not to look at the calories on that cream cheese danish you just bought.

She'd messed up and done that though, and decided that tonight would be a good night to hit the gym. Maybe she'd get a muffin next time, she doubted it was nutritionally any better, but still, at least she wouldn't know exactly how not better.

Danish tasted...okay. Honestly it was kind of dry, but as long as she took a sip of coffee with every bite it was swallowable. It was an art she had recently mastered, eating and walking. In the half a block from the kwik-e-mart to her office she could usually down whatever she was eating that day, and her cup of not-quite-as-bad-as-the-break-room's-coffee coffee, so she could throw her trash away in the lobby and be done with it.

She didn't like eating in her office. It left crumbs everywhere, and that meant she couldn't work while she ate, cause then those crumbs were going to get all over case files, or evidence, or something else important.

Just a few more buildings to go and she had half a danish left. Shoving a huge bite into her mouth, cheeks puffing up like a hamster, she took another swig of coffee. Just then, her phone started ringing, and she rolled her eyes. Chewing as fast as she could, she squished the wrapped half of the danish between her finger and her coffee, and started fishing through her purse with the other hand.

It was probably Daryl. He was the only one who called her at this time of day - except for that one time Maggie accidentally butt dialed her from work. Sighing she tapped accept.

"What?" She asked, voice dry. Daryl had been aggravating as ever this morning, and she hadn't quite forgiven him for it (or for the last two weeks).

"Hey...you okay?" A bit of guilt took hold in her chest as she realized it wasn't Daryl she was being brusque with, and a bit more as she realized who it was. This was why she needed to check caller i.d. more often. It was Zach.

"Oh sorry, I thought you were someone else. What's up?" She asked, cocking her phone between her shoulder and her cheek, leaving hands free to finish her lunch before she got back up to her office.

She took a bite as Zach responded, "Just been worried about you...you aren't calling much."

Beth swallowed hard, one fourth of a danish to go, "Oh, Zach, I'm sorry. I just...work's been really busy, and I've been stressed, and I-"

"No, no I get it," he cut her off, and she took another bite, "Work's always come first with you."

Her brow furrowed as she swallowed, and she stopped walking, moving off to stand next to one of the trees lining the sidewalk, "And what do you mean by that exactly?"

"Just saying." Zach defended himself.

"That wasn't my question, Zach." She wasn't in the mood for this, "What exactly are you 'just saying'?"

"Beth, I love you, but you've been down there for months."

"My sister's husband got murdered, Zach!" She swung her hand back in exasperation and cursed as the coffee lid slid off, spilling over her hand, "And I've been calling you plenty!"

"Not the last couple of weeks," he countered, "And you know when you started that new job? A couple of weeks ago."

"Are you saying I should quit my job just cause you're feeling _neglected?" _Since when had Zach started acting like this? Sure he hadn't liked when she worked the night shift back at NYPD, but he'd never been this...needy before.

"No! I'm just saying that maybe you could pick up the phone every once in a while, you know, when you don't think I'm _someone else!_" Zach shot back, and she took in a deep breath, trying to calm down a bit.

"Zach, I'm sorry. I'm just busy with work."

"Are you? Cause when I talked to Maggie, you're usually home around ten!" Zach snapped through the phone.

Beth's jaw tightened, "You've been talking to my sister?" Her lips pursed and her brows raised. She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him, and then she was going to kill Maggie, and then she'd probably have to arrest herself.

"Well you wouldn't answer your phone!"

"Look, Zach. First of all, it doesn't matter if I'm home. You would not believe the amount of paper work I have to do. I use a damn paper clip on the job and I have to file a report! And second, don't be calling my sister, Zach!"

"You're really doing paper work till two in the morning? Cause I've called you then too!"

"Yes! I am! That or I've been called out on a case, or I'm making an arrest, or for once in my life I'm getting some sleep!" A couple people glanced at her as they passed. Her phone started beeping and she pulled it back, glancing at the screen. Daryl was calling. "Look Zach, I'm getting a call, I'll talk to you later."

"Wait! So you can pick up other people's calls, but not mine?" The phone beeped again.

"This is _Daryl_, Zach." The phone beeped again, Dixon was going to be annoyed if she started ignoring his calls too.

"Wait, who the hell is Daryl?" Zach asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"My _partner_. I told you about him back when I was still in New York!" She snapped, "You know, maybe I'm always busy, but at least I'm actually there when I'm with you!" With that she hung up, and accepted Daryl's call.

"Greene." For some odd reason his harsh twang was more welcome than her own boyfriend's voice right now, "Where the hell are you?"

"Outside, I was getting lunch." She dumped the last of the danish and the remainder of her spilt coffee into the trashcan and started back towards the office, "Where are you?".

"I'm in your office. We got a case."

* * *

><p>"Ah, Jesus." Dixon grimaced, and Beth did her best not to gag as the smell hit her. It had been bad when they came through the front door, but now her stomach was turning. She'd seen exactly five bodies in the two weeks she'd been on the job, and she was starting to get used to it. However, she had a bad feeling this one wouldn't be so easy.<p>

"He's through here," Officer Bello said, holding a hand to her nose and mouth. She didn't look like she was going to follow, so Daryl went ahead into the bathroom. Bracing herself for the worst, Beth took what might be her last somewhat clean breath, and went with him. She was right, this was a bad one. Putting a hand to her face she did her best not to let out the breath that was burning in her lungs.

"Stookey!" Daryl yelled back through the door, "Get your ass in here!"

The bathwater had gone red with little white flecks swirling through, she nearly turned around hurled when she realized that the white spots weren't all just floating on the surface. They were swimming - at least some of them were. Maggots had riddled the puffy white flesh of the man's chest, with red holes as he leaned against the wall. There was a plop as one of them slipped off the body's shoulder and into the bloody water.

Though she wasn't quite sure where all the blood was from. His neck had been slashed, but the white ceramic looked too clean. Blood had dripped down to the bathtub rim below the wall, but there was no spattering.

"Stookey!" Daryl yelled again, and she heard someone muttering out in the living room of the little pre-furnished condo. A vacation rental in the heart of Downtown, some poor couple had walked in on him. They were still speaking to the cops outside, as far as she'd been told the owner was on the way.

"I don't think he was killed here," she said, finally letting out that breath, and taking another in through her mouth. Still smelled putrid. Daryl glanced at her, "Not enough blood," she explained, "No spatters, or streaking. If his throat was cut he would've struggled wouldn't he? It should be everywhere."

He nodded, "Rest of the place looked pretty clean."

"You think someone brought him in here to hide the body?" She asked, looking at the man in the tub. He'd been handsome, once, before he started to bloat and decay. Short brown hair, a straight nose, the hint of a strong jawline. Probably in his mid to late twenties.

He bit his lip, thinking, and then shook his head, "Weird place to try an' hide a body. Too many people could've seen you carry it in, lot a hassle gettin him in the elevator, cameras everywhere...Don't make sense. "

"Somewhere else in the building?" she suggested, "One of the apartments down the hall?"

He looked over at her, "Maybe. Coulda been here too...we'll bring in the blacklights. See what anyone tried ta clean up."

She nodded, it made sense.

He seemed to have a stronger stomach than she did, but he'd been doing this longer. It was nice sometimes, seeing that he wasn't all that affected. Sure, it was annoying when he gave her those looks that seemed to say, 'how'd I get stuck with some weak-ass little girl for a partner'. It was nice though, he'd gotten used to the death, she would too.

"We got an i.d. on him yet?" She asked.

"His name is James Farley." A voice came from behind her, and she turned. The man in the door held out a wallet to Daryl, "Gorman found this with a pile of clothes out in the living room." The guy was bald, black, and dressed in a lab coat. He had a kind looking face. Behind him stood two men who looked like every eighties high school movie nerd combined. Pale, nervous, one decked out in wire rim glasses, the other sporting a slightly greasy mullet.

"Oh!" Glasses exclaimed, looking at the tub, and quickly pulling a pair of tweezers and a vial from his bag. Daryl was watching him with distaste as the man kneeled by the tub and started plucking maggots from the water. She wasn't surprised the Daryl didn't like him, he didn't like anyone.

"And who is this beautiful flower?" Mullet asked in a thick Texan accent, eyes starting to get a little too close to her neckline.

"In your pants, Porter." The first man scolded, and looked to her, " Stookey," he introduced himself, "I'm the Medical Examiner. Go ahead and ignore the other two if you want. isn't exactly a people person, but he ain't bad." Mamet ignored the comments, too busy with bugs to be bothered with conversation, "Porter's just an idiot."

"My I.Q.'s higher than yours." Porter glared.

"Don't mean you can't be an idiot," Dixon commented, watching what Mamet was doing. Porter looked like he wanted to say something, but a second look at the ever present glower on Daryl's face was enough to deter him.

"Beth." She finally had a chance to respond to Stookey, "Detective Beth Greene."

"Nice to meet you," Stookey said, "I'd shake your hand, but, uh-" He held up gloved hands, "Should probably keep these clean."

"The maggots," Mamet finally piped up, "they're out of their third-instar phase - pupae."

Porter was nodding along as if that meant something, and her eyes found Daryl's. He gave the slightest, exasperated shake of his head as he held her gaze, and then turned on the man crouching below him, "English, Mamet."

"The body has been here for at least five days," Mamet said, nervously glancing up at Daryl before he stood, "The ones on the corpse all appear to be healthy, but," he reached down, plucking one of the floating ones out of the water with his tweezers, "Look at this one. It's rotted, decaying, even if it drowned it shouldn't look like this yet."

Daryl glanced at the water, "Acid?"

Beth glanced at the floor, suddenly realizing why the water was so red. Not wanting to look at the man who was slowly melting into the tub, her eyes landed on the big red bottle, "Drano?"

"Drano is basic, not acidic," Porter cut in, rather condescendingly, "but yes, it would have a similar effect...don't touch it, it causes-"

"Boy, I know what Drano does ta ya, get on with it," Daryl growled. Her eyes found him for a moment. His regular scruff was accompanied by a five o'clock shadow over his jaw. She frowned, he looked like he hadn't been sleeping well the past couple days either. She almost wanted to ask, but that would require almost getting her ass chewed out by a grumpy southern detective. He didn't really take kindly to comments about his personal life, she'd found, and was even less inclined to ones that seemed to hint that he might not be doing so well. She'd left his office after being yelled at for suggesting he might have a cold a few days ago.

Looking more than a bit huffy, grabbed a pair of tongs, passed uncomfortably close to Beth, and knelt in Mamet's place.

"Carotid Artery was severed on the right side," Stookey said as Porter started fishing through the Drano and blood bathwater.

"Hm, that's odd," Mamet commented.

"Generally," Stookey explained, "When we see slit throats, they're well...slit," he drew a line from one side of his neck to the other, "opened up completely, both Carotids would have been severed."

"This one just looks like he walked straight into a big ol' pigsticker of a knife or somethin'," Porter said as he sifted the tongs through the bathtub. He pulled up what looked like it had been a leg at one point, a thick piece of reddish flesh sloughing off and plopping into the water. She gagged as the smell only strengthened.

"Prints," she coughed, "Get someone to check the Drano for prints." With that she brushed past Stookey and into the living room, taking in a deep, fresh breath. She just needed to get used to it.

Deciding that maybe the kitchen, or really anywhere that didn't smell overwhelmingly of death, was a better place to be than the bathroom, Beth slid into the busy kitchen. If she wasn't going to stand there and listen to the labcoats spout science while fishing for bones, she might as well make herself useful. Daryl would kill her otherwise.

The apartment really was a nice one, fancy, with big plush couches in the living room covered in designer throw pillows. The kitchen was no different - installed with a startling amount of stainless steel and marble. All of this with floor to ceiling views of downtown Atlanta. Whoever had been renting the place for the weekend must've been rich. Whoever _owned _it must've been very very rich.

If James Farley had been murdered here, then they might be able to find the weapon. Her eyes fell on a big stainless steel butchers block up on the counter.

"Do you have any gloves?" She asked, looking at one of the officers near by.

"Uh, yeah," he quickly pulled a couple from a box on the counter, and handed them over, "here you go."

"Thanks." She smiled, snapping the white latex over her fingers, "And do you think you could track down one of those little handheld blacklights for me?"

"Yeah, yeah of course," the man said, and walked off as Beth stepped across the burnished hardwood floor. A few seconds later the officer was back, and she thanked him as he handed her the blacklight.

Each blade gave a satisfactory, metallic hiss as she pulled them from their slots, and shined the light over them. Clean, clean, clean. She stopped on a long boning knife, glowing eerily with the remnants of blood. They had their murder weapon.

Quickly bagging and tagging the knife she ran it back to the bathroom, trying not to watch as the body was lifted out of the tub to be transported back to the lab. Everything below the waist was a grisly mess of blood, and bones, and limp dangling flesh. The left hand had almost completely skeletonized. Oh God, she was going to hurl.

"Stookey." She caught their attention, all eyes on her as she held up the bag, "Would this do it?"

"Yeah, yeah I think it would." The doctor took the bag from her, examining the blade more closely.

"It got blood on it?" Daryl asked, and she sent him an exasperated glare.

"No, I just picked the knife I thought was prettiest," she muttered sarcastically, 's brow furrowed in confusion. "Yes, I checked for blood!" She snapped. Between Dixon being Dixon, and Zach somehow being even worse...her temper was a bit short.

"We'll double check when we get back to the lab," Stookey said, handing the bag back off to her, "but yeah, I'm pretty sure it'll match."

"I'll get this off to evidence," she said, slipping out of the bathroom and away from the stench of Drano-rotted corpses. Footsteps followed behind, she didn't have to look to know it was Dixon. He had a way of walking, almost silent, that made her think she could only hear him coming cause he wanted her too. She always wondered how he did that, maybe he was ex-military or something.

"You're gonna need to learn to deal with shit like that." He caught her elbow, turning her around to face him. He was close enough that he had to look down to meet her eyes, his hand still firmly grasping her arm, "Gonna get in the way if you can't look at a body for more than five minutes."

"Well at least I was doing somethin' Dixon," she hissed, "While you were in there staring at corpses," she held up the bag, "I was findin' our murder weapon." He looked like he wanted to say something back when the door opened, and they both looked up. A nervous man with a receding hairline was being lead into the living room. "That the owner?" She asked, looking back up at him. He hadn't moved away yet, the fresh cut wood smell that always lingered on him slightly blocking out James Farley's rotting corpse.

"I'd think so." His hand fell from her arm as he pulled out his cell phone, "Go talk with him would ya? I need to call in some techs, get those black lights in here." He started to walk away.

"Wait, Dixon. Give me Farley's wallet." He turned, fishing it out of his pocket and tossing it over.

* * *

><p>"Did you know this man?" She asked, flipping open the black leather wallet.<p>

The owner, a middle aged man named Joseph Blunt, shook his head, "No, never seen him before."

"Does the name James Farley mean anything to you?" She tried again, and again got a simple shake of the head. She'd thought looked somewhat nervous when he'd entered the apartment, she didn't blame him, between the body on his property and the overwhelming scent of decay - it was a lot to take in. She figured it would be easier to talk to him out in the hall, where at least he wouldn't be coughing and gagging every couple of sentences.

"The apartment," Blunt started, "Did, did someone break in?"

She shook her head, "There was no evidence of forced entry."

"So, the door was left unlocked?" He ran a hand over his hair - what was left of it. It kind of looked like he was starting to break into sweat. She frowned, making note of it. He was nervous, and she wasn't sure how much of that was simply in his personality.

"No. The couple who found him said the door was locked when they arrived this morning."

He took in a shaky breath, "So it's someone who has-"

"Access to the apartment? Yes." The man nodded, still looking somewhat sick. A little bit of the smell had wafted into the hall from the apartment. "I'm going to need a list of everyone who has keys."

He nodded, "I'll uh, I'll get that taken care of."

"Can I ask you the last time you were at the apartment?" She didn't think he'd done it. It didn't seem like he had the stomach for a bag of three day old garbage, forget dumping a body in a bath of Drano. Still, she had to be thorough.

"Ten...ten days ago?" He bit his lip, staring blankly towards the floor just beyond Beth's feet. "Everything was normal...I was just checking it out after a different couple left. There wasn't, a...a…" he didn't have to say 'body in the bath', she got the gist of his meaning.

"Would anyone else have been in the apartment since you were there last?"

"The- The maid, her name is Daniella Sanchez." She took the name down, "She should've been here, at some point...I've never really given her an exact time...just told her to get it done before the next booking."

The door opened and they both looked up, Dixon stepped out, meeting her eyes. He nodded back towards the elevator, and she quickly turned to , "I think I have everything I need right now. When you get that list drawn up," she started scribbling down her contact info, "You can send it here." The sheet of paper tore and she handed it to him, "If you remember anything else-"

"I'll give you a call," Blunt said with a weak, nauseous smile.

"Thank you." She smiled back, and turned to walk with Daryl.

"Got a hit on the missing persons list, roommate reported it," he said, "Already got a team headin out that way, get his computer, check around for anythin'."

"We goin' too?" She asked, and he nodded as the elevator dinged, and they stepped in.

* * *

><p>It had been a very long day. Between her and Zach's fight, and the eternal struggle that was working with Daryl Dixon - more than anything she just wanted to go to sleep. She couldn't do that though, not yet. That drive by shooting Daryl and Carol had been working, she was still trying to find plates. It was impossible to see them on the footage of the shooting itself, but she'd pulled some more files - a lot more files. She'd been at this for hours, following the black car street to street. The lights over the tags hadn't been turned back on yet, but they had to do something eventually.<p>

They'd have to stop, pull over somewhere. Either park and be done with it, or hop out to turn the light back on. They'd get stopped if they passed on officer.

She'd find it eventually.

The phone rang and she glanced down, trying to decide if she'd be more upset if it was Zach or Daryl. It was neither of them.

She quickly slid her thumb across the screen, "Amy." She smiled, she could take a break from following the car, "What's up?"

"Hey, where've you been?" Amy asked, though she didn't sound angry like Zach had. Still, a little pit opened up in Beth's stomach. Maybe sticking to her work would've been better, "Haven't heard from you much lately. Your hours really suck, you know that?"

"Yeah…" Beth groaned, "Believe me, I do." She was relieved, at least Amy understood.

"You sound tired, work hard again today?" Beth had ended up calling Amy not long after her first case, she'd needed someone to talk to. Charlie Martin's body wasn't an image that was leaving her mind anytime soon, though she didn't think James Farley's would either - though they were for two rather different reasons.

"Some guy got left in bathtub with Drano for almost a week," Beth said in a voice that mixed clinical detachment with, 'I really wish I could sleep'. It was easier that way, she got why Daryl talked so coldly about the victims sometimes.

"Oh God," Amy took in a breath, "Had he, like, melted?"

"Just the bottom half."

She was pretty sure she heard Amy gag through the phone, "Well other than the dead guy, how was work? You haven't said much about Dixon yet, he as redneck as his name?"

Beth shrugged, "I dunno. He's got the accent, but we don't really talk about personal stuff." She shut her laptop, moving the hot computer off her stomach and onto the coffee table as she sat up a bit, "He wears suits all the time, has to for work, but he drives a truck. Like a real beat up old pick up, makes the Camry look like a luxury model." She laughed, Amy did too.

"He cute?"

"Oh my God!" Beth laughed and rolled her eyes, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Well is he? I wanna know if I have a decent hook up waiting for me down there when I come to visit." Amy had always been the more promiscuous one. While Beth had lamely sat in the dorm hall glaring at the sock on the door, Amy had gotten to have all the fun. Beth was pretty, but she was a little too 'farm girl' to attract much attention from college freshman. Amy on the other hand, had boobs. "You know," Amy continued slyly, "Get him to show me his gun..." Beth knew the shit eating grin her best friend was wearing right now very well. Amy was also a connoisseur of the sexual innuendo.

"If you can persuade Daryl Dixon into bed, be my guest," Beth said with a laugh, "From what I've heard around the office he hasn't had a serious girlfriend in years."

"Doesn't have to be serious." Something creaked in the background, Amy must've flopped down onto her bed, "Actually serious sucks, no fun in that." Amy trailed off for a moment, "Speaking of serious...everything okay between you and Zach?" She asked, and the pit came back in Beth's stomach, "I heard his half of your argument this morning."

"It was just a spat I think...I dunno." Zach had been right, she wasn't calling as often as she should - still he'd crossed some lines, and she was still pissed. "I haven't been in touch as much as he'd like, and apparently he'd been calling Maggie, and then he got all pissy when I mentioned Dixon."

"Well, you have been kind of distant." A bit of hurt leaked into Amy's voice, and Beth felt guilty all over again.

"I'm sorry," Beth apologized sincerely, Amy was her best friend, and it helped that she wasn't getting all belligerent about it. "I have weird hours, and when I'm not working I'm still working...I just...this job is harder than I thought it'd be."

"You sure your cut out for it?"

"Got to be." Beth sighed, glancing at the laptop full of CCTV files. Her eyes were drooping, but she needed to keep looking.

"Beth, sweetie," Amy spoke softly, "you know you can always come home. Your name's still on the lease."

"I can't leave Maggie, Amy, not yet. Everything's still so fresh, and Glenn's case is still open...maybe if she could have gone down to stay with Daddy and Mom, but she can't lose this job either."

"Yeah...I get it. Family first." Amy said, that had been Beth's explanation when she first hauled everything down to Atlanta. It was her explanation for staying too. Maggie had stood by her in everything, hell she and Glenn had helped her pay off some school debt when she was a rookie officer and Zach was just an intern - back when she was struggling to pay rent let alone bills.

She wasn't leaving Atlanta. Not yet.

* * *

><p>"Blunt's list came in this morning," Beth said, projecting so the whole room could hear her from her and Daryl's desk at the back, "I'll be checking over it today, maybe making some house calls?" She glanced at Daryl with that question and he nodded. Morning meeting had quickly become routine for her. Different cases would be gone over, brought up to the whole department. It was useful, get a few different eyes on something.<p>

Daryl had said that when really big cases popped up, the complex stuff like serial killers they'd take on a sort of divide and conquer attitude. Morning meetings seemed to sound more like war rooms than friendly class discussions.

"File says you had the name of a maid who may have been there?" Rick questioned from his spot standing up at the front of the room.

"Alibi's all checked out," Daryl spoke up, "She wasn't there. Took a look the security cameras for the building, never came to clean in the first place. Whoever killed Farly though, tried to clean up. Techies came in with black lights - kitchen just lit up."

"Why would they drag him into the bath though?" Michonne asked, "Why not just leave him there."

"Probably panicked," Rick suggested, "Thought they could hide the evidence with the acid. At least keep us from identifying the body…just forgot to get all of him in there." Rick she had found out, was about as good at his job as Daryl. Seemed to love it too. She could never tell what Daryl enjoyed, but he was dedicated to his work. Rick, however, seemed to genuinely love it. He was a good leader, a bit wordy sometimes; but he liked what he did, and he liked to help people. It showed.

A few of the other detectives, didn't have that vibe. The ones who were always back in the break room with a cup of coffee, a couple who'd she'd learned were a bit too trigger happy. She was lucky she'd gotten Dixon for a partner, jerk or not, he wasn't a complete asshole. There were definitely some good ones too. She didn't get a lot of time to socialize with anyone other than Daryl, but Michonne and Rosita had proven to be more than likeable. Tyreese and Caesar were fun to talk to too. She'd never spoken with them about work, just sports or politics or wherever else the conversation took them.

Most recently it had been a discussion on Philip O'Brien, big hotshot businessman turned Georgia Governor as of late. Rumor had it he had an eye on the presidency as well, though it would be years before he got a run at that. From what she could tell he seemed like his nice guy, sweet family, absolutely doting on their nine year old daughter. She hadn't checked out much in terms of his policies, she'd never been big into politics, and she'd only been down in Atlanta for a month or so now.

"What about Farley's apartment?" That was Tyreese, "Techies gone through his laptop yet? His phone?" She could smack herself, how had they missed that?

"His phone," she glanced at Daryl, he'd realized too, "I don't think one was found was it?" He shook his head.

"We'll get the GPS turned on, track it down. If it wasn't at the crime scene or Farley's place, it might lead us to our killer." The conversation went on at that point, leaving her and Dixon's case to focus on the others. Muggings, shootings - some gang related - others that were turning out to be family drama, and then one that peaked her interest, "Everett, Espinoza." Rick looked to the two women, "How're we doing on the Rhee case?"

They started going down lists of cases Glenn had been working, gangs and dealers who had reason to be particularly pissed at him. Her eyes found Daryl's and he watched her with a guarded gaze, she could never tell what he was thinking. He'd said it before though, he thought Everett and Espinoza were wrong. So why the hell wasn't he saying anything?

"Tomas Aziza, hitman that we've never been able to get solid evidence on before. He's careful, clean - it would explain why we couldn't find much at the crime scene," Michonne said, "Rhee was working several cases linked to gangs and cartels Aziza has hired himself out to before. We've checked him out - he won't give an alibi either, but most of the suspects aren't exactly trusting."

Daryl had been right that night. If it was gangs they would've made a statement, not just leave him swinging in the garage. She hadn't decided if Glenn's killers had wanted someone scared, or just wanted Glenn dead, but she agreed with Daryl - It wasn't a gang. It didn't feel right. She was about to speak up when she felt a warm hand close over her knee. Daryl met her glare and shook his head ever so slightly.

She was about to go right ahead and ignore him when people started to get up, filing out of the room.

"C'mon." Daryl stood, shoving things into folders, "Got housecalls to make."

"Dixon, what the hell was that?" She asked, angrily shoving photos of the black lit kitchen into her binder.

"Ain't your place to say anythin'," he didn't look up at her, holding his folders under his arm as he left the room and she stormed after him, "they find out you're related to the victim they ain't even gonna let you listen in on this shit."

"But they were wrong!" She hissed, following him down the hall towards their offices, "You said so yourself!"

"It was a hunch."

"We're cops," she said, exasperated, "Everything is a hunch."

"No, everything is evidence," he said, eyes still straight ahead. He had problems making eye contact sometimes that were very aggravating, "That's what gets through courts, that's what gets these bastards locked up. I gotta hunch that they're wrong, that's it."

"Then why don't you tell someone who can actually go out and put evidence behind it then huh?" She asked, and he didn't say anything, "What you scared you're wrong or something? Gonna lose your Sherlock reputation as the brilliant asshole."

"Been wrong before, Greene." Impassive features quickly turned cold.

"And I'm sure everyone lived through it!" She quipped, glaring at him as they turned the corner to their hall.

"They didn't." With that he shut his office door behind him.

* * *

><p>Pizza night had been a Greene family tradition as long as she could remember. All the way back to her parent's real big fight, back when she was only a toddler, about Annette always having to cook dinner. Her mom had stormed out, and her Daddy, with two hungry kids and a very limited knowledge of how to work a stove, had done something he'd never done before. He ordered a pizza.<p>

Hershel had always been of the persuasion that if you lived on a farm, and had the resources to make fresh, home cooked meals, you damn well better make them. Except, he hadn't taken into account the fact that he didn't actually know how to make them himself.

After that he started learning to cook, he had three nights a week, her Mom had three nights a week. On Sundays they followed the good Lord's word, and took a break. So Pizza night had always been, and always would be on Sundays. Traditions fell through the cracks when she was in New York, away from home and from family.

Tonight was Sunday though, and she was in the heart of Georgia with her big sister, and they were gonna eat pizza.

It had been nice, she had weekends off, just a couple days not to go into the office, or deal with Dixon. Technically it was time off, though she still kept her phone on and ready at all times. Last weekend Daryl had shown up at her door with half of man's ear he'd found on the sidewalk. Said he'd found a nasty amount of blood in the alley next to it, and had already called in others to check the scene itself out. He wanted the ear taken in before rats found it, and for her to start checking hospital records of the last three days for some guy suffering blood loss and a missing ear.

With that, he said he was busy, walked back out the door, hopped in his truck, and disappeared.

She'd been very, very close to slapping him that night (though they did end up finding the body in a dumpster down the alley).

"We've got this big firm coming in, wanting loans," Maggie said, sprawled out on the couch as they waited for the pizza guy to show up, "This is the third time in a month. I mean I had to tell them no, they're about to go bankrupt, and my boss is going to kill me if I put more of our money in a sinking ship." She laughed, taking a drink of her second glass of wine. Beth had only had a couple of sips, wasn't even buzzed. She'd learned that drinking at night generally meant Dixon would show up.

She was never going to get drunk again, was she?

"What are you and the surly cowboy working on now?" Maggie asked, smirking slightly. Beth rolled her eyes. Maggie had never been all that fond of Zach, though she couldn't figure out why. In that moment she almost brought up Zach's phone calls, but she didn't, it was pizza night. No fighting on pizza night.

"If you call him a cowboy, I'm pretty sure he'll kill you," she said, "Just working on the usual though...dead people." Her shoulders bobbed with a nonchalant shrug, "This one's leanin' a bit farther towards gross than the others, but he's still dead."

"Dixon treating you right?" Maggie asked, and Beth sent her a dead-in-the-eyes glare.

"He's my partner, not my boyfriend," she deadpanned, "and he's always a jerk, and I just don't think that's gonna change."

"The jerk part, or the boyfriend part?" Maggie asked, and Beth quickly took a gulp of her mostly untouched wine.

"We're changing the subject!" She gave Maggie a look that she hoped said, 'see what happens if you try me', but Beth had never been particularly intimidating.

"Alright," Maggie conceded, "New subject...how are you and Zach?"

"Ennh!" Beth let out a loud buzzer noise, "Try again."

Maggie rolled her eyes, "Did you see anything good on TV today?"

Beth shook her head, "All re-runs...there was some MASH on TV Land though." The doorbell rang, "Oh! Pizza's here, I'll get it." Beth jumped up, grabbing the twenty bucks off the coffee table and running to the mudroom. She opened the door with a big grin and bills outstretched, "Hi, thank you so-" She dropped off realizing that it wasn't the pizza guy.

It was a very grumpy looking Daryl Dixon. "We gotta go, techs located that phone," he said as he stepped past her into the house.

"But...it's pizza night," she said, sounding more than a bit dejected. His brow furrowed for a moment, but he brushed it off, "Can't someone else pick it up? I mean it's been there this long, I'm sure it'll be there in the morning."

"It's in Joseph Blunt's house," he grumbled, cold blue eyes meeting hers, and suddenly she knew why he was scowling more than usual.

"He said he didn't know him…" Beth said, eyes dropping as her brow furrowed slightly.

"Well he lied then, didn't he?" His voice was scathing and his eyes intense as he glowered down at her. This was the other problem Daryl had with eye contact. If he was making it, he had a tendency to go all in. "This is why I shouldn't've let you go off and question him yourself."

"I've questioned people before." There were times when she was grateful to have him as her partner, this was not one of those times. Not only was he ruining pizza night, he was being an ass about it too.

"Yeah, as a petty crimes detective," he scoffed, "You know, I need to have a word with whoever trained you for this shit, cause they didn't do all that great a job."

"Well have fun talking to yourself, Dixon," she growled, turning and stalking back down the hall, "Cause I guess you really dropped the ball huh?" That must've given him pause, cause she was already halfway through the living room, and she didn't hear him behind her. Except then a hand gripped her arm and spun her around. She'd been right, Daryl was more than capable of being perfectly silent when he moved.

He was glaring down at her, close enough to feel his breath on her face when he spoke. It smelled like mint, he must've been chewing gum or something. "Where the hell do you think you're goin, Greene?"

"To put on some clothes," her lips pulled up into the smile with dead eyes combo, "Or you want me to go make an arrest in my jammies?" His eyes flicked down the baggy t-shirt and cotton shorts she had on, and he quickly let her go. The place where he'd held her still warm on her arm. She looked over at Maggie, who had been taking it all in with a raised brow, and gave her a 'see what I mean' look before rushing upstairs.

* * *

><p>"Detective Daryl Dixon, Atlanta PD," Daryl held up his badge, "This is my partner, Detective Beth Greene. We have a search warrant." The girl in the door couldn't have been more than sixteen, she had brown hair and her father's nervous demeanor. " home?"<p>

She shook her head, "No, sir. He said he was going out, business…" Beth glanced around the corner. From the foyer she could see half of a TV screen in the other room, an episode of CSI: Miami playing in the background. "He didn't mention when he'd be getting back."

"I'm sorry, we'll still need to come in," Beth said, in a far more kind tone than Daryl's. The girl nodded, opening the door a bit wider. Joseph Blunt really was rich, though if he owned condos like the one downtown, he had to be. The house was nice, fancy with stained wood and some very expensive looking furniture. Religious icons scattered the room, a crucifix on the wall, the Virgin Mary's picture framed opposite. They must've been Catholic.

"Your mama home?" Daryl asked, taking in the room that had to cost a few month's rent.

"My mom died, back when I was six." The girl didn't really meet their eyes, "I'm an only child, so its just me right now."

"I'm sorry," Beth said, "about your mom." Right now they weren't just waiting on Joseph Blunt, they were waiting on the rest of the team they'd called in. This was a very big house, and it was going to take days to comb the whole thing if it were just the two of them. "Does the name James Farley ring a bell to you? A friend of the family? One of your dad's associates?"

The girl's eyes widened and her jaw tightened as she said, "No," quickly. Beth glanced up at Daryl.

"Well, uh, we'll be around, if you want to get back to whatever you were doing," Beth said with a smile, and the girl turned and left for the TV room. Every once in a while she'd turn and glance back at the two cops in her foyer. "She knows something," she hissed to Daryl and he nodded. He was still pissed with her, she could tell, and she was pretty sure it dated back to their argument after the morning meeting on Friday. Right now though they were on a case, so he was being civil.

He nodded, "Think she's coverin' for her Dad?"

"Could be," Beth agreed, "Sounds like he's all she has. No family, no support - if she knows I don't think she'd gonna talk. Supposing her Dad did it."

"Why else would the damn phone be in his house?" He grumbled, that annoyance seeping into his voice.

"I don't know." She really didn't, the whole thing was frustrating, "But I still don't think it makes sense. Why would he leave a body for his guests to find? Kind of bad for business." She didn't get a chance for anymore questions, the door was opening, and Joseph Blunt looked like his heart had jumped into his throat when he saw the two cops looking at him.

"What's this about?" The man asked, eyeing the pair of them cautiously. He looked rumpled, tie crooked, suit no longer cleanly pressed. That nervous sheen was appearing on his hairline again.

"You tell us ," Dixon said, holding up the warrant, "You got a reason for having James Farley's phone in your house?"

* * *

><p>A few hours later a search team had completely scoured the house, and Daryl had completely scoured Joseph Blunt. The man looked like a wreck - he'd been nervous when Beth spoke to him outside the crime scene, but being dragged back up to the APD had taken a toll on him. Daryl was scowling heavily from his side of the table, he'd found out a lot, but not what he'd wanted.<p>

Beth sighed, watching through the two men through the one way mirror, as she got another text. They'd found the phone in a box of pictures, and a few other things pertaining to James Farley. All of it had been brought back up to the office. At least the search had been successful.

Joseph Blunt turned out to be downright useless as far as making an arrest. He had an alibi for that night, and for most other nights apparently - he had a slight penchant for hookers he'd been hiding from his daughter. He'd given a name, an escort who went by Mira Raj, Beth had already looked her up while waiting for Dixon to finish up. She was very pretty, Indian descent. Mira had been less than enthusiastic to answer, but she answered all the same. Blunt had been with her.

"I'm done here," she heard Daryl growl over the speakers, standing. Blunt moved to go with him, "I didn't say we. You're stayin."

Beth's phone pinged again, another text from the one of the techies, a woman named Karen who Beth had really started to like. She was Tyreese's wife, apparently. _Turned on Farley's phone, you're gonna want to see this. _

She and Daryl exited the adjacent rooms at the same time. He glanced at her, the grumpy look on his face hadn't change. She was doing her best not to say 'told ya so'. "I checked out his alibi, he with her all that night."

"Fuck," he grumbled, and moved to go open the door again, let Joseph go.

"Wait," she said, "Keep him a while longer. Karen said she found something on the phone, I'm gonna go check it out." Daryl raised a brow, she wasn't usually spouting off what their next move was, the past couple of weeks that had been his job, "Amanda, the daughter. She's still back in the waiting room, check on her would you?"

If Daryl wanted to be bossy, she could be bossy right back.

"Uh-uh, Greene. I ain't gonna go play baby sitter," He grumbled following after her, "You so worried about her, you get her a damn coffee."

She stopped, looking up at him in exasperation. That seemed to be the word of the week, she'd never met a more exasperating person than Daryl Dixon. Pretty soon she was going to need to look up synonyms. "I'm not asking you to go get manicures with her, I'm asking you to be a decent human being. That poor girl's probably worried sick right now."

"So?" He muttered, going back to avoiding eye contact.

"So?" She let out a heavy breath, "You know what Daryl?" Her lips pursed, and he glanced up as she said his first name, "You can be a hard ass with me, and you can be a hard ass with the suspects, but would it really hurt you to show a damn bit of compassion?" She was getting real tired of his shit, real fast, "You know, instead of just letting everyone else get caught in your temperamental crossfire!"

He'd fixed a nasty glare on her, eyes cold. She shook her head, voice softening a bit, "I saw you with Lilly Martin, I know you're capable of it…" His expression didn't change much, though she thought his jaw might have twitched, "You don't have to act like you're above it all to get people to respect you, Daryl."

He didn't respond, and he didn't move to follow her as she walked for the elevator.

* * *

><p>"So Amanda Blunt and James Farley were-" Beth stared at the photos on the phone in a mild state of shock. Karen nodded, eyebrows raised.<p>

"But he's...he's twenty six, he's my age - she's...oh my God she's only fifteen." Beth stared at the picture of the couple, smiling into a selfie. James had his arms around her, chest halfway up on her shoulder as he reached to get the phone in the right angle. They were in bed, James was shirtless, and Beth was pretty sure Amanda wasn't wearing much under that sheet.

"I don't know about you," Karen said, as they flipped to the next, slightly more risque photo, "but if I were her parent, this would be more than enough motive for me."

"Do you think the hooker was lying?" Beth asked, and Karen shrugged, pulling up Farley's texts. There were hundreds of messages between him and Amanda.

"Possible. He paid her for sex. Might've paid her for a quick lie, wouldn't have had to tell her the details….you could bring her in, we've got a polygraph." Beth nodded, it would be a good idea. Pulling out her own phone, she sent a text to Dixon, he'd want to know about this. She felt bad about earlier, but at the same time, she really didn't. "There was some other stuff in the box you might want to look at." Karen nodded to the work desk.

The box wasn't huge, a standard jewelry box really, covered in deep blue velvet. The inside was cream colored silk, filled with printed photos, a man's ring, and one last thing that caught her eye...a pregnancy test, a little pink plus sign front and center. Daryl still hadn't texted back. He had a bit of a temper, but he wasn't childish, he wouldn't be ignoring her while they were on a case.

She shook her head, staring at the piece of plastic in her hands. This was one hell of a motive...but still. It didn't make sense, why would Joseph kill James at that apartment, why would he leave the body there?

"Beth," Karen was still sifting through the phone, "Look."

It was the last message in their conversation, the night James Farley died. Amanda had asked him to meet her at an address...Beth tapped the in text link, and google maps popped up on Joseph Blunt's vacation rental.

Beth blinked, holding up the pregnancy test, "Can I borrow this?"

* * *

><p>Amanda Blunt was sitting alone, looking a lot like she was trying to hold back tears. She had a cup of coffee in her hands, but Daryl was nowhere to be seen. He still hadn't answered her texts, and her calls had gone to voicemail. She was going to kill him when she found him. Right now though, she had bigger things to worry about.<p>

"Amanda?" Beth took a seat, "How're you doin?"

"Okay...Detective Dixon brought me this." She gave a half hearted smile, holding up the cardboard insulated cup.

"He still around?" Beth asked, unable to push past the curiosity that had been mixed with a healthy dose of annoyance.

Amanda shook her head, "He started arguing on the phone with some guy, I think his name was Merle?" Amanda looked to Beth, seeing if the name meant anything to her, but Beth shook her head, "Towards the end it sounded like he was gonna go meet him somewhere."

Beth controlled the urge to roll her eyes, and instead kept her focus on the teenager in front of her. "Amanda, I was actually wondering if I could ask you a few questions?" That nervous look swept over the girl's face again as she nodded, "Amanda, I want you to answer me truthfully, did you know James Farley?"

The girl's eyes went wide as she shook her head, "No."

"Amanda, we have James' phone...sweetie we know that's not true." Amanda didn't respond, her face going blank and white, "Is there any way your father could've found out?"

Amanda shook her head, "He didn't know."

Beth nodded. She'd been right. Quietly she reached into her purse, and pulled out the pregnancy test, setting it on the armrests between them, "He got you pregnant didn't he?"

Amanda nodded, eyes glassy as that weak, nervous chin started to tremble, "I loved him." Her voice came out in a squeak.

"You're father's religious isn't he? Catholic?" Beth asked, and Amanda nodded, "You were scared about him finding out - a baby out of wedlock...he wouldn't have been happy would he?" Tears were starting to fall down Amanda's face, and Beth took her hand, "Sweetie, it's okay, I get it. I would've seen the wrath of God if my Daddy found out I'd gotten pregnant at your age...I would've done anything to make sure he didn't know."

Amanda let out a strangled little sob, "I knew it was a bad idea to tell James, I knew it."

"Did he try to hurt you?" Beth asked, not taking her eyes off the girl.

Amanda shook her head, "No he would never...he wouldn't do that. He he was always so sweet you know...he just didn't get it. He thought my Dad would be okay with it...he - " she broke off in a cry, "He was going to call him - I- I -I." She started heaving with tears.

"Deep breath, sweetie," Beth said, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "I understand. You would've lost everything if you're Dad knew. Wouldn't you?" Amanda nodded feebly, "He would've kicked you out."

"I'd invited James over to the apartment...it's usually empty, I'd wanted to try to make dinner. When I told him he was so...he had this dumb idea that even if Dad threw me out that he could take care of me. Like my Dad wouldn't call the cops on him or something."

"So when he called your father..."

"It was an accident," Amanda sobbed, "I reached out to stop him - I forgot I had the knife in my hand. There," she sniffed heavily, "There was so much blood. I panicked...I...I watch a lot of crime shows, I thought I could...I'm so stupid."

"You understand that I'm going to have to arrest you now?" Beth asked, and Amanda nodded.

"I understand."

* * *

><p>Daryl hadn't shown up that night, hadn't answered his phone, just went completely AWOL. A few hours in she'd been annoyed, sitting there processing all of the paperwork on her own. Informing , on her own. Seeing Amanda off in Rick's care, on her own. Now that all the necessities for the arrest had been performed, and Daryl still hadn't shown back up, she was starting to get worried.<p>

Her door was open, giving her a good view of his office. He'd left his leather jacket on the chair, his laptop on his desk. She almost would've thought he'd gotten tired and decided to pick his stuff up when they were all in, bright in early tomorrow morning (today morning, actually, it was two AM), but his keys were sitting on his desk too. She didn't think he would've left without his truck, he loved that truck like it was his kid or something.

She'd almost spilled coffee in it one morning, and she was convinced he was about to ditch her on the side of the road.

If she was going to wait up all night for him, she thought she might as well get some work done. It wasn't like she had time to go all the way back home, it was forty five minutes there, and forty five minutes back - subtract time to shower and get dressed again and she'd have less than an hour to sleep. Wasn't worth it.

She had some spare clothes in the locker room, and there was a shower in there, dinky as it was.

Trying her best not to worry about Daryl, something she never thought she'd do...ever...she kept on sifting through the evidence on the Martin case. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he did it, but there was a doubt in the high price lawyer Frank Martin had bought with money she assumed he'd gotten off cocain. So she needed to get this case together, a real solid, irrefutable case.

That bastard wasn't going to walk.

Something shifted in the hallway outside, and she glanced up. Daryl hadn't noticed her as far as she could tell, practically shuffling into his office and gathering his stuff. He wasn't wearing a suit, to her surprise - but a sleeveless flannel that showed just the tip of a tattoo on his shoulder blade, and some well sculpted biceps. A ragged pair of jeans completed the look that Amy would have claimed to be more than sufficiently red neck.

She'd slipped her shoes under her desk a while ago, so she was almost silent as she crossed the hall, and stood in his door, "Dixon." Her voice was soft and groggy from exhaustion.

He jumped, looking up at her, "Jesus Christ, Greene. The fuck you still doin' here?"

"You weren't answering your phone...I was worried." She stepped a bit further into his office, leaning against the wall, "Thought I'd wait up, wasn't gonna make it home anyways...had a lot of paper work to do."

His brow furrowed, "Paper work?"

"Made an arrest in the Farley case - it was the girl, Amanda." Beth frowned, the girl hadn't stopped crying the whole time. Her father wouldn't even look at her when he left. "James got her pregnant, was gonna tell her dad...she was holding a knife, cooking, didn't mean to kill him."

"Shit," he muttered, a hand running up his face and through his hair as he grabbed his coat.

"You gonna tell me where you went? Kinda left me hanging there, Dixon." He shifted awkwardly, not making eye contact. "Fine." The annoyance was coming back now that she knew he was okay, but she was too tired to be angry, "Don't tell me. You owe me one though."

He raised a brow, a little smirk spreading across his lips. When he wasn't scowling, he was actually pretty handsome, "I owe you one?"

"Yeah, and I'm being generous." Beth started counting off on her fingers, "You've been a jerk to me all week. You've been a jerk to me this whole case. You pulled me away from pizza night, so you could be a jerk to me some more. You ran off, in the middle of the case, to do God knows what, and left me to do all the hard shit at the end. Really, you owe me at least six…but I'll be nice and call it one." She gave him a cheeky smile, and he rolled his eyes.

"I'll bring you coffee tomorrow, alright?" He swung his bag over his shoulder, heading for the door.

"Mmm, I dunno…" She said, and he stopped just inches from her, he still smelled like cut cedar. "You kinda ruined pizza night, pizza night is a pretty serious thing."

His gaze turned to meet hers, eyes softer than they normally were, "Fine, I'll bring you a pizza, Greene."

"Thank you." She gave him a smile, as he let her pass him, and shut the door behind them. "I'll uh, see you in a few hours." She gestured back towards her office, and he nodded watching her a moment longer before turning down the hall.

She was almost back in her office, when she heard his voice again, "You really ain't gonna go home?"

"Dixon, you know where I live." She smiled softly, too tired to stay pissed at all, "I'd have fifteen minutes to sleep at this point, maybe."

His thumb went to his mouth, nervous twitch she'd noticed he had, "My place is about ten minutes out...gotta pretty comfy couch."

Beth's eyes drooped further at the thought of somewhere soft to sleep. Somewhere to sleep at all. "Can I use your shower?"

"You gonna use all the hot water?" He asked, and she shook her head. "Go grab your stuff, Greene."

"Three more," Beth called as she headed down to the locker room.

Daryl blinked, "I thought we were callin' it one?"

Beth shrugged, smiling, "Yeah, but as long as you keep shellin' out, I'm moving back up to six." He rolled his eyes as she turned the corner, feeling exhausted, though considerably happier than she had been.

Quickly ducking back around the corner, she called out to him softly, "Hey, Dixon." He looked up, "Thank you."

**Originally this one was going to be longer than the Pilot, but I felt that going up into thirteen-fourteen thousand word territory was gonna get to be a bit much for something that wasn't even super heavy for the plot. Didn't cut much, just condensed some things, moved other bits into different chapters. Still a damn long chapter, about ten thousand. **

**I hope you guys enjoyed it, and I can't wait to read your reviews! **

**See you as soon as I can! **


	3. Fine Lines

**Hey everyone! So excited to finally be posting the third chapter! I've been so busy with school the past couple of weeks that I just haven't had enough time for writing and then I got sick. I can't wait till I graduate. This will be done before then, but this summer all I'll have to do is work and write. **

**Oh! I've made a tumblr specifically for my Walking Dead fanfiction. If you have a tumblr and want to follow me I'll be posting when new chapters come out, maybe some sneak peeks and drabbles related to the story. You can follow me below at **

**dixonink . tumblr . com**

**I really want to thank everyone who has followed and favorited! And I really really really want to thank everyone who has reviewed, some of these reviews have been astonishing, and better than I ever could have hoped. The fact that you guys genuinely enjoy this story will always leave me pretty damn surprised. Like to all of my reviews, thank you. **

**Episode Three - Fine Lines**

There was a sleepy sort of confusion, complete with fuzzy mouth and crusted eyes, that made her crinkle her nose when she woke - iPhone alarm clanging obnoxiously from the couch's arm rest. Why was she awake again? Groaning, she swung an arm up and grabbed her phone, quickly silencing it. The light from her screensaver hurt her eyes, she needed to get a picture that wasn't so white - currently a photo of her and Zach at Christmas dinner back home on the farm.

She frowned, it was four thirty in the morning. She'd forgotten to turn off that alarm, though another would be going off in half an hour. She didn't have to be up so early, it was only ten minutes from Daryl's apartment in Midtown back to APD, but if she was up she was up. Not like another thirty minutes was going to matter that much anyways.

She hadn't had spare pajamas with her, so she'd waited until Daryl went to bed so she could strip down and sleep in her panties and cammie. Now, slinking down the hall that the bedroom and the bathroom were off of, she couldn't help but hope he wasn't too light of a sleeper. Or at least that he'd have the sense not to barge out of his room.

It was a nice apartment, small, but he didn't exactly need a lot of space. Sometimes Maggie's house felt too big - she and Glenn had bought a four bed, four bath house in a nice Atlanta suburb...they'd always wanted a family. Beth thought it would be a good idea to sell it, but there was nothing that would make her say that to Maggie - not yet at least.

He kept the place cleaner than she would've expected. Not neat freak, everything sparkles and smells like a Pledge commercial clean, but still clean. Everything smelled like him too - the couch, the blankets, the towels in the bathroom - it all smelled of cedar wood. She figured it made sense, he was kinda the only person who lived here.

Ditching her makeshift PJs on the floor she turned on the shower, and set in to wait for the hot water. She glanced at the mirror, frowning. Her hair was a mess, knotted and frizzy from being up all night and a couple hours on Daryl's couch. Her hairbrush was at home in her bathroom, and she had a feeling throwing it up in a bun wouldn't do much good. She was going to need to wash it - not that she had shampoo either.

Steam was starting to rise behind the shower curtain, two black bottles sitting on the rim of the tub. She hadn't pegged Daryl as a conditioner guy. She was going to smell like fresh cut wood and cedar chips, but she was going to look presentable. Letting the hot water fall over her skin she squeezed out just enough shampoo to cover her hair - she didn't need Daryl yelling at her for using his shit.

Between the steam and the shampoo the room quickly smelled like him, something was missing, the part that didn't come from the bottle; but still as the suds slid down her body she was very sure she was going to spend the rest of the day smelling like Daryl Dixon. It only took a few minutes to turn off the water - Daryl had been very clear that she wouldn't live past breakfast if he had to take a cold shower.

"Greene!" A fist slammed into the door and she jumped as she pulled one of Daryl's towels around her. Shoot, she'd forgotten her clothes in the living room. "Greene! Get out the damn bathroom 'fore I kick you out my house!"

Apparently sleepy, almost sweet Daryl had disappeared with a couple hours of rest. She made a note to herself that her partner was more manageable when tired, and yelled, "Just a minute!" As she realized she didn't have a toothbrush either. Eyeing a tube of toothpaste, she squeezed some on her finger.

"Greene!" He banged on the door again, "We ain't got all day!"

"Dixon," she called, words jumbled as she jammed a toothpaste covered finger in her mouth, "Your apartment is ten minutes from work! We got time!" She spit, turning on the faucet and rinsing her finger as she sucked some water into her mouth, and spit again.

"Just hurry up-" He broke off as she opened the door suddenly, staring down at her. Blonde hair still wet, towel clutched around her - and she would almost say he looked like his ears had gone a bit red...almost. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and his jaw and lips were tight in that ever present scowl as he waited for her to step out of his bathroom.

She was pretty sure she heard Daryl start muttering something as he closed the door, and she shook her head. Trying not to drip too much water on his floor, she padded down the hall and back into the living room. The shower had turned back on, and she let the towel drop away - rubbing her hair dry as she glanced out the glass door to the balcony. He had a nice view of downtown Atlanta from his apartment, the lights still twinkling against a dusky purple horizon.

Flicking on a lamp, still too groggy to deal with overhead lights, she wrapped the towel back around her midsection, and sat down to try to finger comb out the worst of the tangles and snarls. His apartment wasn't exactly well decorated. There wasn't much in terms of knick-knacks or just about anything...it was pretty utilitarian. As far as personal effects went there was a woven, Mexican style blanket across the couch, and a couple of photographs on the end table. One of a ten years younger Daryl smiling awkwardly next to a man in military fatigues, and another of him with...she squinted. Rick. Rick had one arm slung over Daryl's shoulder, another around a beautiful brunette woman's waist. A kid stood in front of them, Daryl's hand ruffling his short brown hair.

She didn't know Daryl really talked to Rick, much less that he was a friend of the family. Dixon really was good at keeping work and personal life separate - or at least keeping her separate. She blinked, letting out a short laugh, how on earth did she end up in his apartment then?

The shower squealed off and she rushed to pull on fresh clothes before Dixon walked back out. His hair was wet, and he'd put back on the tank top and sweats he'd worn to bed. Not making eye contact he shoved something into her hands, and stalked back to the bedroom. She blushed when she realized it was her bright red panties, crumpled in her cammie as if he'd used it to pick them up.

She should've stayed at the office.

Quickly shoving yesterdays clothes - and that damn underwear - into her bag, she decided she'd rather just wait out on the balcony, watch the sun rise over Atlanta. It really was beautiful, watching the skyscrapers kiss a rosey sky - the sun just peeking over the horizon. Inside she could hear Daryl moving around.

"Toast okay to you Greene?" He called.

"Yeah! Thank you!" She called back, still slapping herself over leaving her underwear of all things in his bathroom.

Despite the awkward morning, this was peaceful. A lot better than the breakneck drive from Maggie's she would be starting right about now. Maybe she'd try to crash at Daryl's place more often - she worked enough late nights as it was. She sighed softly, watching a sunbeam catch in distant glass. She didn't want to impose on him or anything, he wasn't exactly mister friendly, but he was the one who invited her in the first place.

Inside she heard the toaster pop. She was just about to turn around, walk of shame her way back inside and never speak of the color or fabric - lace - of her panties, when something plummeted past her. Something huge, going so fast she couldn't make it out until it landed with a metallic bang. The car alarm started to wail as Beth breathlessly threw herself against the railing, craning to look at the street below.

The car's hood was caved in, the windshield partly shattered. Laying perfectly in the center of the crater she had made, was a body.

"Daryl!" She screamed, staring at the crumpled girl ten stories below.

Footsteps rushed up behind her, a hand going to her lower back as he leaned over to look, "Shit."

* * *

><p>Daryl hadn't lied, he had a really comfy couch - she didn't even feel stiff. However, the comfiness of the couch had nothing to do with the fact that she'd only had about two hours of sleep. She desperately fought off the urge to yawn as she opened the next file on the drive by case. Yet another seven seconds of a black sedan racing through an empty Atlanta street.<p>

It had been a very long day. Between the girl who'd jumped that morning, and the endless tedium that was paperwork - she was almost grateful to keep on sifting through CCTV tapes. She'd thought about asking Daryl to help her with it, but he had his own work to be doing. This file was just as useless as the rest, the car came to the intersection and bowled on through. She sighed, going ahead and finding the files she'd pulled from another camera down the street.

She had to admit she was still kind of shaken from the morning. It wasn't a case that could be solved, or a job to do. It was just a dead body on a car - jaw lopsided and out of place from impact, skull cracked open in the back, up towards her temple. She'd looked like she had been pretty before blood had spilled out onto her dark brown skin.

She and Daryl had sprinted down stairs, forgetting the pieces of toast sitting on the island counter, in some vain hope that the girl had still been alive. She hadn't been - would've been a miracle if she had. Daryl's apartment was on the tenth floor, she'd probably been much higher. Just standing there waiting for APD to show up, and encircle her in yellow tape; for the ambulance to come take her body away - it had been a long ten minutes.

She frowned, watching the sedan turn the corner. Daryl hadn't seemed quite so perturbed, but he was Daryl, he'd seen stuff like this for well over seven years now. She'd get used to it, she just needed time. She clicked on the next file, following the unmarked car as it moved through the darkness. She had spent the past weeks just watching it go round and round Atlanta, never stopped, never pulled over - part of her was kind of starting to think she and Daryl had stumbled on a ghost car.

She frowned the brake lights flashed, but they weren't taking a turn this time. Bit by bit the sedan began to slow, black exterior almost invisible between the grainy camera and the poor lighting. Half the time she could only see the headlights, and the rippled reflections of streetlamps. Why were they stopping here?

Her phone buzzed and she hit pause, glancing at the caller i.d. It was Maggie.

"Hey," Beth started, Maggie didn't normally call her at work, "What's -"

"Beth, where the hell are you?" Maggie sounded frantic, fear mixed with something thicker. She was angry.

"I'm at work," she said, heart sill as she waited for a reply. She very suddenly realized she'd made a small mistake.

"You were at work? All night?" Maggie always got this tight lipped smile when she was angry. Beth had thought it was one of the most terrifying things in the world when she was little. Now it wasn't terrifying, it was just unnerving how clearly she could feel it through the phone.

"No, I-"

Maggie kept on plowing through, "You didn't even call! I woke up and you'd never come home, no messages, no texts, nothing. You just fell off the face of the fucking earth Beth! Where the hell could you have gone if you weren't at work?"

"I crashed at Dixon's place, I'm sorry I -" Beth started again, trying to get a word in. It wasn't going over all that well so far.

"You crashed at Dixon's? Beth I can't believe you would-"

"Maggie, I'm twenty six!" Beth cut in, saying it a bit louder than she meant to. Daryl had his office door open, and she was pretty sure she saw him look up out of the corner of her eye. His phone started ringing. Grateful for her audience's sudden distraction, she kept going, "I don't know what's wrong with you today," she hissed into the phone, "but I'm a full grown adult, capable of making my own decisions, and I -"

"You know what I don't care!" Maggie snapped suddenly, "Sleep with your damn redneck, I don't give a damn."

Beth blinked as the line went dead. Long day just kept getting longer...she was sorely tempted to ask Dixon if she could use his couch again, she wasn't really feeling the wrath of Maggie today. Her older sister had been so subdued the past few weeks Beth had been in Atlanta, she'd almost forgotten that Maggie had a temper.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she dropped her head to her hands - phone still loosely held in her fingers. Boy did she want to sleep.

"Greene." She hadn't noticed Daryl watching her. Silent as ever, he'd placed himself in her doorway, leaning up against the threshold. "Stookey called."

Beth's brow furrowed, they weren't working on anything with Stookey right now were they? "What about?"

"That girl from this morning?" He met her eyes, and she nodded, "Weren't a suicide."

* * *

><p>"If you look here." Stookey's gloved finger traced under the girl's broken jaw line, "You'll see pinpoint bruising consistent with -"<p>

"Strangulation," Daryl cut him off, looking at the dead girl on the table. Beth didn't particularly like the morgue. It was nothing like the fancy labs she saw on TV, it wasn't even close. It was dark, dingy, subterranean, and had a lot of buzzing fluorescent lights to make up for the silence of the dead stacked one on top of the other.

"Smothering," Stookey corrected him. Had he been Porter or Mamet he would've gotten a hellish glare for that one, but Daryl seemed to have a respect for the doctor, so he just grunted instead. "Strangulation would have left thick bruises - fingers, rope, whatever else you could wrap around her throat."

"So someone, smothered her? Then...then what, just carried her on the balcony and pushed her off?" Beth looked to Daryl, his tongue absentmindedly tracing his bottom lip as he thought.

He nodded, "Probably."

"Based on the breakage of bones and ligamentous structures," Mamet called from the back, "She would've fallen from at least a hundred and eighty feet."

Daryl frowned, looking like he was mulling the numbers over in his head, brow furrowed. "Approximately fifteen stories," Stookey translated for him.

"Building's only got fourteen," Daryl said.

"The roof?" Beth asked, and Stookey nodded.

"The roof would do it."

She frowned looking at the body. In the background she could hear Mamet banging around on something. The impact really had messed her up. Everything looked slightly out of place too - broken arm, hips that hung too low. Beth's mouth twisted into a little grimace as her stomach flipped. It didn't look natural.

"The bruises on her arms." Beth pointed towards the mess of discolored spots on the girl's forearms and hands, "What are they from?"

"She fought back," Stookey said, looking at the girl sadly. It was quiet for a while, except for Mamet's incessant rattling and shifting towards the back of the lab, "You got an i.d. on her?"

Daryl nodded, "Knew her. Lived in my building, mailbox not far from mine." Daryl had that cold tone in his voice again, the one they all had to use, "Her name's Kelsey Lewis." She'd figured that might've been it. He'd been quiet this morning, quieter than normal at least. They'd gone to breakfast after the body had been picked up, and just quietly ate side by side up at the bar.

The silence was broken as Porter walked up past the exam table, once again coming a bit closer than she'd like. She'd almost say it was closer than Daryl liked too, the way he bristled, and those blue eyes of his caught fire when they set on Dr. Porter. She could've sworn she heard the doctor sniff as he went passed and she rolled her eyes.

"I thought it was against the rules for partners to be engaged in sexual intercourse," Porter said, setting a box of cleaned autopsy equipment down on a side table. Daryl choked, Beth blinked, Stookey just started smiling as he went to enter the victim's info into the computer.

"The hell'd you just say?" Daryl growled, glaring at him.

"Your scent is all over her," Porter reasoned, "It's only logical that-"

"Shut it, Porter, 'fore I do it for ya," Daryl snapped, cutting him off. Beth suddenly regretted using Dixon's shampoo that morning. His eyes found her for just a second, before flitting back to the body, "We'll get back to APD," he addressed Stookey, though he didn't look up, "See what we can find out 'bout her - check out the roof."

"We'll keep you updated if we find anything," Stookey nodded, amused smirk only growing wider when Daryl saw it. Her partner scowled, and nodded for Beth to follow him towards the elevator out of the dingy basement. "Be gentle with her, loverboy!" Stookey called after them suddenly, grinning.

Daryl looked like he was just about to turn around and blow a gasket when she grabbed his sleeve with one hand, threw up her middle finger on the other, and yelled, "Fuck you, Stookey!" without looking back.

Daryl blinked, and she could've sworn there was a hint of a smile on his face as the elevator doors closed behind them.

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on the pale gravel, it was going to be a hot day, humid. She'd ditched her jacket down at Daryl's apartment, deciding that just dress shirt and skirt were going to be a lot more comfortable. She was right. A bit of a relieved smile crossed her lips as the breeze up here cut right through the thin material, and tugged at the loose bits in her hair.<p>

She was sure it wouldn't feel so nice out of the shade of the staircase's outbuilding, but this wasn't half bad. She glanced back, Daryl was propping the door open. He'd ditched his suit jacket too, opting for just a shirt. If she looked real hard she could see the tip of a tattoo through the sheer fabric of the sleeve.

"The hell you lookin' at?" Daryl asked as he straightened, poking the door one last time to be sure it wouldn't swing shut on them.

"You," Beth said in a sing-song voice, her smile broadening as she turned her back on him. She could feel his eyes on her, and she tried to ignore the warm feeling in her stomach, "You're funny lookin'," She glanced back at him, a teasing smile on her lips as he scoffed.

"Yeah, I look funny," he said, voice dry as he moved to stand next to her, "Says lil' Bo Peep with a gun." His mouth twisted up into a smile as he looked down at her, and she smiled back. Daryl was actually nice when he wasn't in a mood. She could see what Carol saw in him, he wasn't bad, just prickly.

"Jerk," she grumbled, smacking him lightly on the arm, before moving to step down off of the concrete and onto the gravel, "C'mon let's go-" She was cut off as he caught her by the shoulder, pulling her back against his chest. She glanced up, and he nodded down towards the ground.

"Footprints." He was right there were footprints, though she didn't know what that would tell them other than, maybe, the exact spot where they jumped. He slipped around her and crouched, staring at the indents in the gravel with a furrowed brow, "They're pretty fresh."

"From this morning?" She asked, eyes flitting between the man below her and the trail leading off towards the edge.

"Should be...only ones too, ain't nobody been up here much." He frowned with that, eyes narrowing.

"That weird or something?" She asked, looking at him as he motioned for her to follow. They were careful not to step on the trail as they walked along the rooftop.

"Kelsey weren't a big girl, maybe one twenty, one thirty tops." He pointed at the prints, "Those are a man's. Big guy, pushin' on three hundred would've been walking with a limp or somethin' - his gait ain't quite right."

"How do you know all this stuff?" She asked as they approached the edge of the roof, Atlanta sprawling out ahead of them.

"Been huntin' since I was a little kid," He said, coming to a stop, "Gotta crossbow downstairs."

"You hunt people often?" She asked with a laugh.

He snorted, "Nah, just for work." The trail had ended, coming to a stop at the edge where the low concrete wall separated gravel from air. Somewhere below her was Daryl's apartment, farther down a crushed car surrounded in caution tape. Didn't make a bit of sense.

"Well now what?" She asked, frowning at the man's footprints. This case was turning out to be impossible.

* * *

><p>They'd managed to find out a bit more about Kelsey. She was twenty three years old, getting her MFA in the arts at Emory, she had a boyfriend named Jeffery, and had spent the last year studying abroad in Paris. Her facebook had been filled with pictures of her roaming around the city...she'd looked happy.<p>

There was an art show at the university tomorrow, one she was supposed to be featured in along with a few other students and professors. She and Daryl had plans to go check it out, ask around, but for now it was late and she was tired. The thought of going back to Maggie's wasn't exactly appealing, but she'd be twice as dead if she didn't.

"You heading out too?" She asked Daryl as he shut his office door behind him. He nodded, falling in stride with her. "It alright if I swing by your place?"

"You planing on staying?" He asked, blue eyes flitting down to hers.

"Nope, just forgot my jacket."

"Good. I ain't runnin' a bed and breakfast." He punched the down button on the elevator as she shook her head.

The keys jingled as Dixon unlocked his apartment, letting the door swing open, "Get your shit, and get out," he grumbled, swinging his bag up onto the counter. The toast from that morning was still there though it was cold now. She waved him off, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite. He glared, but it didn't seem like he meant it.

"Dunno." She smiled, "Might stay after all, you got a nice couch."

He rolled his eyes taking one of the other pieces of toast off the plate, "Eat and leave, Greene." He took a bite, sitting down on one of the barstools around the island, "Or at least bring your own damn shampoo next time."

"You noticed?"

"Whole world noticed," he muttered. Beth really hoped she wasn't blushing as she laughed lightly, setting down the half eaten toast, and glancing at the clock. It was ten thirty. She needed to be getting home.

"Well I'll be getting out of your hair," she said, standing up. He watched her as she grabbed the jacket that was slung over the couch, "I'll see you tomorrow, Dixon?"

He'd gotten up, walking her to the door, "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow Greene," he said, fingers sliding past her hip as he reached for the doorknob. She smiled up at him as he gently pulled it open, and suddenly they both jumped. Or, they all jumped. A gorgeous woman with brown hair was staring at them, one hand raised to knock, eyes wide as she looked between Beth and Daryl.

"I'm sorry, I...I didn't realize you had company." The woman's lips were twisting into a suppressed smile as Daryl sent her a withering look. Beth's brow furrowed for a second, she looked familiar, "I'm Lori," she extended a hand to Beth, "Lori Grimes. Daryl's boss is my husband." Beth blinked as everything clicked into place, she recognized her from the picture. Lori looked up at Daryl, "And I had to come all the way out here, cause you weren't answering your phone."

Daryl almost looked bashful, and Beth found herself trying very hard not to grin. "Got busy," he muttered, not meeting Lori's eyes.

"I'm sure you did, Daryl," Lori said, "I'm just here to let you know that you've been invited to dinner Wednesday, Rick's getting you the night off."

"You mean you're getting me the night off?" Daryl raised a brow.

Lori shrugged, "Maybe." Beth couldn't help but smile, it was weird seeing Daryl interact with people when it wasn't work. He lost his cop in a suit demeanor, and honestly he seemed a little bit awkward without it. It was cute. Lori's eyes landed on Beth again just as she was about to turn around, "And if you want to bring a guest, I'll make sure to set an extra place."

She looked to Daryl, feeling mildly confused as he scowled at no one in particular, "You wanna explain what just-"

"Out, Greene." He pushed her out the door, and she stumbled a bit.

"Can I at least come to dinner?" She asked turning around quickly as she caught her balance.

The door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>Her phone buzzed and she glanced down. It was Zach again, he'd been apologizing for the other day pretty much non-stop. She was still annoyed. Annoyed, but not unwilling to forgive him - so she'd been texting back. This long distance thing was hard.<p>

_I miss you, you know that? _She read, and smiled softly before typing out a reply.

_I miss you too sweetie. _

She let the phone drop back to the couch as she turned her attention to her laptop, idly scrolling through facebook. She'd only been home for twenty minutes, Maggie wasn't up to be snappy with her - she just needed a moment to relax. Apparently Amy and some of the other girls had been out at Swoozie's last night, a tacky little bar they'd been going to since their college days.

The tequila was awful, but it was cheap. She smiled, liking a couple of the photos where Amy looked the drunkest, and kept on going through her dash. A couple of high school friends were pregnant, she liked those too. Her ex-boyfriend, Jimmy, had gotten engaged a few months back to a pretty girl in town named Lacey. There were some pictures of them out trying wedding cakes.

She and Zach had talked about getting married, just never had been the right time. Part of her kind of hoped he'd move down here with her, his job didn't exactly require him to be there in person.

The phone buzzed again, and she twisted to grab it, the dang thing had slid between the cushions.

_I was kind of wondering when you were going to invite me down there ;) _

_I shouldn't have to invite you. You know you can just stay with Maggie and me whenever. _

She frowned, closing out of facebook. She needed to be working not piddling. Pulling up the files she started flicking through for the last video she'd been on - she hadn't gotten a chance to finish it. Between the Kelsey Lewis case and everything else, the car had had to wait. The paused video popped up on her screen, grainy red brake lights frozen in place.

She dragged her finger up to hit play. Her phone buzzed.

_I've got a few days off in a couple weeks, might be able to drive down :) _

_Well, I'll make sure we've got plenty of milk in the fridge. _Zach drank milk with just about everything, and ate three bowls of cereal in the morning. Back home she was out buying milk at least twice a week.

Tossing her phone down again, she brought her attention back to the computer. The mousepad clicked, and she set in to watch God knew how many more videos before she finally got tired and went to bed.

Her brow furrowed, she'd forgotten the car was slowing down. It was slowing down a lot more than she remembered. Zach texted again and she ignored it, watching intently as the unmarked sedan finally rolled to a stop. It had taken weeks of her free time, but she was finally going to get an i.d. Watching in nervous anticipation, she waited for someone to get out of the car. They didn't though.

She kept on watching. Six more minutes of dead nothing, just a black car half illuminated in dingy streetlights. The tape went dead. She'd need to go find the next one off that camera. Clicking the back button with a sharp motion, she reached for her phone.

_Chocolate milk too? _

_Yeah, _She responded absentmindedly, scrolling through the files till she found the one she wanted. A doubleclick turned into a quadruple click before the video popped up, and she quickly pressed play. The iPhone's screen lit up in her hand as she kept her eyes glued to the laptop. The car shifted, and she watched as two men got out of the front, eyes wandering this way and that up the street. She paused, taking a screenshot to send in to the techs - see if they could get an i.d

Another text came through as she hit play, and she let the phone come to a rest next to her leg. The two men walked with a hunched swagger, the one from the passenger's side - a short guy with floppy brown hair - came to lean up on the hood. The taller one laughed at a joke, and passed off a cigarette to his friend.

When were they going to fix the lights on their tags? Did they really expect to get around the rest of the night without them?

Time went on and they didn't move to fix their lights, didn't move at all. Just sat on the hood of the car, backs to the camera as they smoked cigarettes and joked back and forth. What were they waiting for?

She couldn't hear much, but suddenly both of them looked down the alley to their right, and the short guy stood. Neither one moved for a while, both staring intently down the dark space between a dinky Walgreens and a laundromat. She wished she could see down it, see what they were looking at. Slowly the two men walked forward, eyes never leaving whatever was in the alley.

And then they stopped, thankfully just before they would've disappeared from sight. They were talking with someone. They seemed tense, not aggressive or angry, just tense. She couldn't hear the conversation or hear what they were saying, but it went on for a while. Then just like that - two shots, dulled by the choppy audio, and they fell back. Blood seeping out behind the short one's skull as he went down.

She blinked, watching in shock as the bodies laid there. Nothing happened for a minute, two minutes, three. She'd almost given up, decided to go check morgue details for two bodies brought in a couple months ago - some idiot who hadn't checked for a damn bullet wound - when someone stepped out from behind the wall.

His face was masked, a pistol stark against a white wife beater. He gripped the taller man under the arms, and dragged him back into the alley. A few minutes later he was back, taking the other body with him, and leaving nothing but a dark pool of blood on the concrete.

Her iPhone buzzed again.

_Good, haha. _

_You're the best. _

_I love you. _

She glanced at the frozen frame on her laptop, a puddle of blood in an empty street.

_I love you too, Zach._

* * *

><p>The truck doors slammed behind them as they jumped out, and strode off through the parking lot. She'd misplaced her flats again, and was struggling to keep up in heels. She had a map of Emory's campus in hand, trying to find out where the hell they were supposed to be going.<p>

"So he just...shot them?" Daryl asked, looking back at her as she half-jogged awkwardly beside him.

"They'd been talking to him for ages," she said, heels tapping on the asphalt, "didn't even see it coming."

"Alright -"

"Left up here," Beth interjected, and they turned down the sidewalk.

"So we're looking for the murderer of murderers now?" Daryl asked, his voice said 'I'm too old for this shit,' but the his eyes had an amused twinkle to them.

"We're looking for all of them." She sighed, "Checked with Stookey, with some of the nearby county morgues - no bodies matching the description."

"Gotta turn up eventually," Daryl said as Beth pointed them down another path. They were here for the art show, there had to be people here who knew her. Her friends, teachers...she wasn't sure if her roommate would make an appearance or not. They'd tried to reach her yesterday, but she wasn't answering the phone, boyfriend wasn't answering either.

Together they walked up the steps and she pulled the door open, passing it off to him as she stepped through. A few people were milling about, mostly college students, looking around at the big canvases hung on the wall. A few sculptures were installed here and there on the showroom floor. She started scanning faces, looking for the roommate or boyfriend - anyone who she recognized from Kelsey's facebook page.

No one. She glanced up at Daryl, he was eyeing the room too, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Yeah, she had no idea where to start either.

"C'mon, lets split up." Daryl started walking off, and she caught him by the sleeve.

"Wait, what am I supposed to do?"

"Just start asking shit." With that Daryl broke free from her grasp, and wandered off - glancing between paintings and people as he stalked among them. She could see what he's said the other day, about being a hunter. It would explain why he was so damn quiet, the shrewd looks and quick reflexes. That first arrest they'd done together, when she was starting to push towards tipsy, he'd been on that guy faster than the man could get a knife down.

She hadn't even remembered Dixon being all that close before.

Shaking off thoughts of Daryl, she dragged her eyes through the crowd again, trying to find someone to talk to. It wasn't going to do much good standing about like an idiot, if anything it would put her back on Dixon's bad side. Her gaze landed on a couple of students, girls in hipster clothes with brilliantly colored hair. The painting they were looking at was beautiful. Beth studied it as she approached - an angel painted in black script, the letters weeping and bleeding into each other as its wings unfolded.

"Do you like it?" A deep voice caught her attention, and she paused. The man she'd been passing had his deep brown eyes on her, a thin smirk on his lips.

"It's beautiful," Beth said, eyes shifting between him and the two girls who were wandering on to a different piece.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, admiring the work with a grin.

"Is it yours?" She asked.

"Yeah, part of series. The others are upstairs." He was handsome. A bit on the older side, maybe in his late forties early fifties, but still fit. He had a charming smile, and just a hint of cockiness to him, "Professor Jones, by the way." He offered her a hand.

"Greene," she said, taking it, "Detective. You know, since we're doing titles."

His smile never faltered as he shook her hand, glancing back at his art, "Well it's nice to meet you Detective Greene. You look awfully young for your job."

"Well maybe I'm just awfully good." Beth wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to take it as a compliment or an insult. He didn't seem to know what to make of her response either. It was quiet for a moment and she glanced over at Daryl, he was speaking with a couple of young looking guys. They shook their heads and he nodded, moving on.

"You just enjoying the art?" Professor Jones asked.

"No, I'm - I'm actually here on business," She said, and his smile faltered, brow furrowing.

"Was something stolen?"

"No. I'm...I'm not that kind of detective," she explained, "Professor Jones, did you ever teach a student named Kelsey Lewis?"

"Oh God, what's happened to her?" He asked, a hand rising to cover his mouth.

"I'm afraid she was murdered," she said, "I'm sorry."

He swallowed hard, "Mur-murdered? Are you sure?" He shook his head, "She'd been having problems recently, depression...she'd been fighting with her roommate - but murder?"

"She'd been fighting with her roommate?" She asked, it would explain why she'd never answered their calls. If she'd been the murderer…

"Yeah...Laura has always been a great artist, but Kelsey? Kelsey was something special," he stretched out a reminiscent smile, "We ended up giving Laura's spot in the show to her - she deserved the recognition."

"So her roommate, Laura," Beth pulled out her notepad, "Do you know where I could find her?"

* * *

><p>Her lip curled as she stared at the styrofoam cup in her hands. Was she really going to do this? She didn't think coffee was supposed to look...sludgy...and it certainly wasn't supposed to be gray. She glanced up at Michonne with wide, pleading eyes. She really didn't want to do this.<p>

"C'mon, Greene," Michonne grinned, rubbing the twenty dollar bill between her fingers, "We don't get paid so well that you can turn this up."

"We don't get paid so well that you should be throwing money away on this." Beth's disgust was still apparent in her voice as she stared it. The stuff smelled foul, like some odd mixture of burnt coffee and chicken broth. She didn't know where the chicken smell came from, but it made her gag.

"Do it, Bethy," Martinez egged her on with a grin.

She looked back at Daryl, who was leaning against the counter, watching her with a smirk and a cup of starbucks in his hand. He'd forgotten to pick up the coffee she'd asked him for (paid him for), and if she didn't know better she'd almost think he was in on this. He shook his head, and took a sip of that delicious smelling, non-toxic coffee.

"You were up late weren't you?" Rosita asked with mock concern as she grinned, "Look at those dark circles." She pouted sympathetically, "You must be so tired." Beth gulped, looking at the congealing coffee mate as it swirled over the surface. "Do it." Rosita grinned and the others picked up the chant.

"Do it, do it, do it." With one last unforgiving glare back at Daryl for what he'd done, she screwed up her nerves and her face, and threw it back one in fell swoop. She nearly gagged and they all cracked up. The stuff burned like fire - and she couldn't be sure if it was the temperature that was doing the burning or not.

"Oh dear God." She put one hand to her mouth, and reached the other out for her money, "That was disgusting."

"You get used it," Tyreese said with a resigned tone as he took a sip of his own cup of good ol' breakroom coffee.

Her stomach turned a bit, and she felt flushed from the sudden heat. APD might skimp on its coffee, but at least they didn't cut corners on AC. The temperature difference between her skin and her gut made her feel a bit queasy, and she sent another glare at Daryl. This was his fault. She just could have quietly had her Starbucks off in the corner with Dixon, or sitting at the table enjoying conversation with others.

But no, she had to drink the black tar from hell.

Martinez snorted, and she glared trying to swallow the bitter taste out of her mouth. Michonne reached over, easing the cup from her hands, "I'm just gonna take this," she said, standing, "Throw it out before you throw it at one of us." Giggles went around the table again as they met the big doe eyes glaring at them.

"She'll do it too," Daryl spoke up, smirking into his coffee, "Girl flipped off Stookey the other day."

Rosita raised an eyebrow, and it looked like they were about to press for a story when there was a knock on the open breakroom door. Lori grinned, waving at the group gathered at the the table as she strode in, a white box under her arm.

"Hey!" Martinez greeted her enthusiastically, " , what's up?"

"Just coming to visit Rick, thought I'd bring my favorite people some donuts," Lori said, setting the box down as everyone started smiling and thanking her. Beth took one eagerly, desperately hoping the sugary sweetness would take away from the coffee's after taste. Lori's eyes landed on her, and she paused, "Oh!"

"Hi," Beth smiled shyly, and pointed to her donut, "Thank you."

Lori still looked shocked, "I - I'm sorry. I thought that - " Lori looked between her and Daryl, "Oh, you're partners?"

Michonne and Rosita's eyes got all wide, and Beth did her best not to blush as she realized just what Lori had been thinking when she met her at Daryl's apartment. She glanced at Dixon to find her exact feelings echoed in his 'oh kill me now' expression. He met her gaze, shook his head in what could have been an apology, and quickly fixed his eyes on his coffee.

"Well," Lori quickly moved past it though everyone else in the room was either mortified or deathly curious, "Beth, sweetie, you're still invited to dinner tonight if you want to come." Lori placed a hand on her shoulder as she tried not to look at anyone. "Now, have any of you seen Rick? I brought him lunch."

"Office," Martinez said quickly, looking like he wanted to start laughing again.

The moment Lori's footsteps faded down the hall Michonne practically rocked back in her chair with laughter, "Alright, y'all wanna tell me why Lori thinks your fucking?"

Beth didn't get time to respond. Daryl grabbed her by her shoulder, and suddenly he was hauling her out of her chair and to her feet, "We got work, Greene," he said gruffly, ignoring the everyone's hoots and Michonne's cackle as he practically shoved her out the door.

Her donut went unfinished.

* * *

><p>"I don't get why I'm here." The girl stared at them from across the table, arms crossed, "I already gave you my alibi."<p>

"Yes, you did -" Beth started, only to be cut off.

"And it checked out?" The girl was practically bristling.

"Hey, cool it would ya?" Daryl snapped as he sat down in his chair, setting some of his files and notes on the table in front of him, "You're alibi cleared. Just...need to ask some questions, alright?"

The girl's lips pursed, but she nodded, glaring at the table. It had been hell finding her - took the better part of the day and tracking down her credit card info to get a lead. A motel six forty minutes out of Atlanta, apparently in a slightly compromising situation with Kelsey's boyfriend - Jeffery Davis. They had video of her in the continental breakfast confirming she wasn't in Atlanta...Jefferey on the other hand.

"I'm assuming things weren't exactly great between Kelsey and Jeffery?" Beth asked, looking Laura dead on. Or at least trying to, the girl was almost as bad as Daryl when it came to eye contact and a steady temper.

She shook her head, "I don't think anything was exactly great with Kelsey...she'd been acting weird as fuck the last couple of months. Wouldn't tell me where she was going, she'd get mad if I came home early - the only reason me and Jeff even started talking was 'cause he'd come over to our apartment all worried about her."

"Do you know why?" Daryl asked.

"Why the stick up her ass suddenly grew an extra foot?" She huffed angrily, "I wish I could tell you."

"You sound pretty bitter." Daryl always did this thing when he was interrogating suspects, a thing Beth had tried and failed, where he seemed so casual and yet so intimidating all at once. She glanced at him. He was slouched back in his chair, but he wasn't hunched; head tilted down, but he wasn't avoiding eye contact. He lazily fiddle with his pen on the table - the girl frowned with each metallic clink.

"My alibi checked out," Laura stated coldly.

"Do you know why Jeffery Davis would've been cheating on Kelsey?" Beth asked.

"They had a fight." Laura cross her arms, leaning back a bit, "He wouldn't tell me what it was about."

"Do you-" Beth started, but was cut off as her phone started to buzz, "It's Stookey," she said to Daryl, and she got up, hitting accept as she left the room, "Hey, what's up?" She asked, letting the door click shut behind her.

"Mamet found semen," Stookey said, and she blinked not really sure how to respond. It was quiet for a long moment, before Stookey realized he needed to explain, "On the victim's clothing, there was semen on the victim's clothing."

Beth nodded in a somewhat relieved understanding, "You probably should've lead with the clothing part not -"

"Mamet?" Stookey finished.

"Yeah," Beth laughed lightly, "Not Mamet. So, do you know whose it is?"

"No. You got any ideas?" Stookey asked.

"We've got her roommate up here…" Beth glanced in through the window. She couldn't see Daryl's face, but whatever he'd said had made Laura's face even sourer, "Kelsey was having a pretty bad fight with her boyfriend."

"Get us some DNA, and we'll get you some answers." The line cut out, and she glanced back through the window. Daryl had stopped slouching in his seat, instead he was leaning in across the table - pen still idly dragging across its surface. He got this cold light in his eyes when he was like this, she couldn't see it now, but she'd seen it often enough. If the look on Laura's face said anything, Daryl's quiet intensity was just as terrifying as ever.

She shook her head. He was in his zone, she'd wait to go in - no need to disturb him now.

* * *

><p>It was a humid night...it was always humid in Georgia, but tonight was worse than normal. The sun had set a long time ago, but the heat clung to the wet air, and seeped into her skin. She wished she hadn't had to park so far away, but some club was having a big pre-Fourth of July rager - a very very popular one, and the curb was taken up for blocks.<p>

The walk was long, and full of drunks, and she almost wished she'd stayed back at the office and worked on reports. Daryl had gotten a tip on Kelsey's boyfriend, so he'd run off - leaving her alone to do the boring stuff. Eventually that boring stuff had gotten too boring, so she figured she might as well do some field work of her own.

It had been exactly four months since the unmarked car had pulled up to the alley, exactly four months since those two men had been shot, and oddly enough exactly four months since Glenn had been murdered too. April second, a lot of people died on April second.

Music pulsed and lights flashed as she passed the line of people that smelled distinctly of beer. Only a couple more buildings down and she'd be at crime scene - she could already see the dark break of the alley in the long line of concrete walls. She don't know what she expected to find, it'd been so long since the shooting...but maybe there'd be something.

It was a long shot. A long shot that just seemed to get longer as she flicked on her flashlight, and scanned it over the grime-streaked stone walls. There was a foul smelling dumpster, and a few cardboard boxes that had seen more than a couple rainy nights. Beth did her best not to feel frustrated...this case was just about as hopeless as Glenn's. There just wasn't enough evidence for anything. The first murderers were dead, and their murderer was completely unknowable. There was no body, no evidence - just a grainy surveillance video telling her it happened, and there was nothing she could do to solve it.

Trying to ignore the burning itch deep in her chest, she flashed the light over the walls again looking for something - anything. Every dimple and chip in the wall could've been left by stray bullet fragments that she knew physically couldn't have ended up there; every dark mark was blood that would've washed away weeks ago.

The club's thudding beat carried all the way down the street, only broken by the occasional rumble of a passing car - the hiss of detergent scented steam from the laundromat's vent. Somehow melody and sound combine into monotone, a blinding white noise that backed up a blindingly boring search. It filled her ears, and blocked out everything else as she combed over and over the pitted asphalt and ripped trash bags.

Flashlight cutting through the darkness that pooled back in the alley - she could've sworn she heard something. Could've sworn she'd seen something...just the flash of a shadow caught against a wall.

"Hello?" She called out, the word echoing eerily off concrete. She hadn't really expected a response. Tilting her head slightly, she waited for one that sure enough never came, and with a furrowed brow she started walking. Tap, tap, tap - heels on asphalt, the sound bouncing about with the dubstep...and something scratching its way along just out of sight.

Just around the corner, it came again. A rustle, a hiss - something quiet in the dark. Light spilled out into the blind alley, as she swung around, "Hello?"

No one was there. Back towards the road a motorcycle roared by. Beth found herself completely alone. Trash littered the ground - balled up flyers, half eaten bags of doritos, Governor O'Brien smiled up at her from an old campaign business card.

She must've been hearing things.

Shaking her head, she let the light turn back towards the road. Still...she couldn't shake the feeling there was something in the darkness at her back.

* * *

><p>"So we're back to square one?" Beth's lips pursed, trying not to let her fingers tighten around the glass of wine she'd been cradling.<p>

"Yup…" Daryl seemed just as aggravated, his voice creeping towards a growl, "Boyfriend's DNA didn't check out, his alibi did...got receipts from Adam and Eve, was buyin' lube."

"At five in the morning?" Rick looked a bit more amused than his coworkers, "I guess you gotta do what you gotta do…" Beth and Daryl simultaneously rolled their eyes.

The Grimes' had a nice place, just a few blocks from main street in a little town ten miles out of Atlanta. Must've been hell for Rick to commute in every morning, but they had a son, and they didn't want to rip him away from his friends at school. Apparently they had plenty of ties to the area too, old friends, neighbors.

Rick's best friend, the town's Sheriff, Shane, was sprawled out in the La Z-Boy, beer in hand and a complacent smile on his face. She'd been watching everyone carefully over the rim of her wineglass, and the first thing she'd noticed was how stiff Daryl got around Shane. The second was the thin sneer on Shane's lips when he looked at Daryl. Apparently they didn't share the same easy going relationship that Daryl had with the Grimes family.

"Dinner's ready in five!" Lori called from the kitchen, "And don't y'all dare talk about work! I don't care to hear about rotting corpses while I'm trying to eat pot roast!"

"Yes ma'am!" Shane called, and Rick echoed it.

"Daryl?" Lori popped her head out of the kitchen, a smile on her face, "I got your word?" He nodded, meeting Lori's eye for a second before he took a swig of beer. Everyone had exchanged work clothes for something more casual. For Rick and Shane that meant jeans and a tee-shirt, Beth had a tank-top and shorts (Lori had said to wear comfortable clothes, and in this heat she figured shorts were as comfortable as it got). Daryl had donned the cut off flannel she'd seen him in the night he took her back to his place.

Her eyes drifted down to his biceps, and between the warmth of the wine in her chest, and the little devil tattoo curving around those muscles - she couldn't quite bring herself to stop looking.

"Doesn't Beth get grilled?" Shane joked.

"No, I trust her to be civilized." Lori gave each man a pointed look, "Dinner's going to be ready in a minute. Make sure Carl washes his hands." With that she disappeared back into the kitchen just as a buzzer went off. Rick called for his son to come get dinner as he lead the group into the dining room, King's Hawaiian rolls were already set out on the table next to a big crock of green beans.

Lori, clad in oven mits, rushed out with the pot roast just as chairs were scooted in, "Dig in!"

"This looks amazing, Lori." Beth grinned as Rick and Shane fought for first helping on the roast. Quickly, Lori smacked their hands away, and ladled some out onto Beth's plate.

"First share to the newbie," Lori said, as Beth thanked her, and reached for a roll, "You know I never would have pegged you to be in that line of work. Such a pretty young thing."

"She'd surprise you." Rick smiled at her, "Girl's already helped Daryl put away four or five cases. She's gonna be taking my job 'fore we know it." Rick quickly darted his hand in, grabbing the spoon for the roast just before Shane could. Dejected, the other man helped himself to the green beans instead.

"You know," Lori sat down, starting to fill her own plate, "I actually ran into her the other day over at Daryl's place - I could've sworn up and down she was his new girlfriend."

Shane scoffed through a mouthful of green beans as Rick laughed, "So that's why you were so happy when you came home the other night?" Beth raised an eyebrow, and Rick explained, "Since the day I brought that damn redneck home," Rick said through a mouthful of roast.

"Manners," Lori interjected, and Rick took a moment to swallow.

"Lori's had her heart set on finding him a girlfriend, you know - someone to hangout with-"

"Double dates," Lori said, looking at Daryl who made a point of looking at his plate when her gaze met his.

"I think she gave up on me settling down a long time ago," Shane said with a laugh as he swiped up some gravy with his roll.

Rick swallowed another bite and continued, "She's always setting him up with her friends-"

"And I've told her to stop doin that," Daryl grumbled.

"And it always goes horribly," Rick said with a laugh as he picked up his beer. Beth couldn't help laughing a bit too, though she felt bad about it. The thought of her grumpy, unsociable, somewhat temperamental partner managing to keep a girl from walking out of the restaurant on him was almost laughable. "What happened with the last one, Daryl?" Rick smirked as he took a sip.

"Threw a drink in my face…" He almost sounded bashful about it.

Beth giggled, "Dixon, what the hell did you do?"

"He implied she was stupid, and that her tattoo was trashy -" Lori started, but Daryl interrupted.

"It was!" He defended himself, "The fuck -" Lori coughed, glancing at Carl, and Daryl reworded his sentence, "What kinda person gets their ex's face tattooed on their chest?"

Shane raised an eyebrow, looking at Lori, "Where'd you even find that one?"

Lori shook her head, exasperated, "She's someone I knew in highschool, and this isn't my fault." She pointed at Daryl, "I'm running out of options cause you keep chasing them all off. It'll be a miracle if I find anyone for you at this rate!" Daryl just rolled his eyes, shoving a huge bite of roast into his mouth. Lori turned on Beth, "You know, sweetie, he _is _single."

"I have a boyfriend," Beth said at the same time as Rick said, "It's against regulation."

Daryl looked up, brow furrowed, "You've gotta boyfriend?"

Beth nodded, "His name's Zach. He's in New York, his job's up there and stuff…"

"Ya never told me," Daryl said, as he took a bite of green beans.

"You never asked," Beth countered. It was quiet for a little while after that, other than the sound of forks scraping against plates. Shane coughed. For a second Beth could've sworn she saw Lori smirk as her eyes flitted between the two partners. "So," Beth took a sip of wine, looking at Daryl, "You never did explain how you know the Grimes'."

"Drugs bust," Shane said quickly, and she noticed Daryl stiffen.

"Did you used to work drugs?" She asked. He said he hadn't known Glenn all that well, maybe he'd switched over to homicide before Glenn got on the force.

"You could say that." There was something mocking in Shane's voice as he met Daryl's eyes. Daryl had that cold light in his gaze again, but it wasn't the same as in the interrogation room. That was his space, there he was a force to be contended with, a presence that took up most of the room. Now he seemed smaller - small and cold. His jaw was tight, but he didn't say anything. "Considerin' he was the one we were bustin'."

"His brother," Lori corrected Shane, "You were bustin' his brother. You know full well Daryl just happened to be there." Beth tried to catch Daryl's eye, but he seemed to be making a point of looking just about anywhere else. She got the distinct feeling he hadn't wanted the conversation going this way. She kinda felt bad, she'd been the one to steer it there.

"I ended up offering him job," Rick said, "Back when I was Sheriff here...knew the Dixon's pretty well, wanted to give him a chance to turn things around. It was a good decision too - best cop on the force. He's got intuition." Rick tapped his nose with an index finger, and then drew it towards Daryl, "Ain't exactly got the people skills, but he's got the eye for all this. When I moved up into the APD - he was the first one I asked they bring up with me."

Beth glanced over at Shane. There was a bitter grimaced tugging at his lips, though he tried to hide it. "Still can't talk to people worth crap."

"Well that's why he was partnered with Carol," Lori said, and looked over at Beth, "It's a shame you never got to meet her. Never known a more wonderful woman."

There was a sudden cough from the other side of the table as Daryl noisily rose from his seat, he looked rigid, "Gonna go take a piss," he mumbled.

"Language," Lori reminded him softly as everyone else watched in awkward silence. He disappeared around the corner, and somewhere down the hall a door closed. Beth blinked, looking about in confusion.

Lori's lips drew into a thin frown, "He needs to learn to talk about all this - It ain't healthy bottling it up for so long."

"Well he's right to feel guilty." Shane's lip curled bitterly as he spooned more roast onto his plate.

Lori shot a glare at him, "Shane, you know full well there wasn't a thing he could've done for them. He'd already done so much for that family - she hadn't said anything, there was no way he could've -"

"Could've seen the fucking signs," Shane growled, ignoring the no cursing rule.

"Like we did?" The humor was gone from Rick's eyes as the dry words left his lips. They hung in the air as the toilet flushed down the hall. She never did get to ask what had happened to Carol - though she knew she'd never ask Daryl. There were at least seven different types of bad that that could go.

* * *

><p>Back to square one. That's where they were, square one. Daryl was interviewing the boyfriend again, the roommate again, getting in contact with the parents - anyone who might have information on their only lead, a set of footprints made by a very heavy man. So while Daryl ran interrogations, she had gone down to Midtown, and up into Kelsey's apartment.<p>

If this was where she died, then this was about as close to the start as she could get. Square one. So far it looked clean though, she didn't know what else she would've found - she was suffocated not stabbed. There wasn't going to be blood, or bullets, but there had to be something. She just knew there had to be something.

The apartment wasn't lavish - far from it. She didn't think grad students made much money, much less grad students studying art. It wasn't poorly decorated though, which she guessed was the perk of being an art student. Paintings - really beautiful paintings were hung on the walls, sculptures on the end tables, quirky little knick knacks lying here and there.

One of the paintings in particular caught her eye, an angel painted of black words, each letter bleeding into the next - dripping down her skin. She was hunched, wings wrapped around her as she kneeled in a puddle of red ink. Beth frowned, there was something so familiar about it.

Her phone rang, and she absentmindedly picked it up as she stepped closer to the angel, "Hello?"

"Greene," Daryl greeted her, "Just got out of interrogating Jeffery again."

"Uh huh," she prompted him to keep going as she took a closer look at the painting. Why'd it feel so familiar? She hadn't been in the apartment before. Daryl had done that while she took care of contacting Kelsey's parents - a couple in upstate New York, she hadn't known how to comfort them over the phone.

"Jones," he said.

Beth blinked, "Dixon, you're going to have to go into more detail than that."

"Her professor, Professor Jones. Kelsey was sleeping him, that's why she and Jeffery were fighting."

With that one name it all clicked. Down in the corner just under the red splash, was a name and date _Kelsey Lewis, April 2012,_ "Oh gosh the paintings…"

"Alright now _you_ gotta be giving me more information," Daryl said.

"The professor, I was talking with the professor about his art when we met him down at Emory. There are painting in Kelsey's apartment almost exactly like them."

"She was stealin' his work?"

"No, no these paintings are from years ago - he was stealing hers."

* * *

><p>Beth glanced up at the clock, the second hand ticking by at an alarmingly slow pace. Where was Dixon? He was the one who was good at this...with all the waiting around for her partner she felt more twitchy than the man she was supposed to be interrogating. Professor Jones sat across the table with a warm smile that was quickly turning impatient. What was holding Daryl up? He should've been here ages ago.<p>

"You had questions to ask me?" Jones index finger was slowly tapping out a steady rhythm on the cool metal table.

Beth took in a deep breath. She'd have to get it over with...Dixon or no. "Do you have an alibi for the morning of Kelsey Lewis' murder."

"I was working." He spoke easily, that charming smile never leaving his lips.

"So if I pull security footage I'll find you in your office at...five a.m.?" Beth pushed, making eye contact. She wished she could have Daryl's imposing demeanor, but she didn't. She was sweet, soft Beth. There wasn't a hint of cracking in the Professor's eyes - but something seemed more guarded than before.

"I wasn't in my office. My home studio - I live outside of Atlanta."

"Alone?" Beth asked, and he nodded, "So there's no one who could confirm you where there? A neighbor…"

"I'm out in the country…" The smile was fading, "I don't have neighbors." Beth started to speak again, but he interrupted, "Look, sweetheart, I don't know why I'm here. Kelsey was my star student - I don't know what possible motive you think I have for killing -" He started to stand.

"We know you were sexually involved with Kelsey, Professor Jones. So why don't you sit down?" She couldn't pull of Daryl's growl, but a bit of ice slipped into her voice that seemed to make him listen. He sat slowly, smile wiped from his face. "I have a warrant here," she slid the sheet of paper across the table to him, "For you DNA."

"Why would you possibly -"

"Kelsey had had intercourse shortly before she died, Professor. We didn't find a match in her boyfriend, and our next best answer is you. Now you can either submit for the test, or I can arrest you and then we'll take the tests anyway."

The professor took in a slow, controlled breath, "Fine, I'll admit I was sleeping with Kelsey. That doesn't mean I was the one to kill her -"

"You said she had depression," Beth said quietly, and was pleased that he still stopped and listened, "When I spoke to you before, you said she had depression...I hadn't told you she'd fallen from a building. Can you tell me why you thought that it was relevant?"

"It - It -It...It was a passing detail." He was getting flustered, "Look I know it seems bad, but I still don't know what you think my motive is."

"She knew about the angels." The color drained a little from Jones' face, "You were stealing her ideas - she figured it out didn't she? Was she going to tell?" The professor wouldn't meet her eyes, "You would've been ruined. You'd lose your job, your credibility - you don't have any other work experience do you?"

"I want a lawyer," Jones said, "I'm not saying another damn word without a lawyer."

"Alright then," Beth said tersely, "If you'll wait here...I'll see what I can do." Beth pulled her files together, and stood, leaving him alone at a cold metal table.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she gasped, practically dropping her folders as she jumped. Daryl Dixon was like a cat, never met a quieter redneck in her life - and back home she knew a lot of rednecks. They had loud trucks, and loud twangs, and shouted real loud after a few beers. Dixon just kind of slipped on through everything he did.

Blue eyes met hers as she looked up, she might've been crazy, but he didn't look as grumpy as normal.

"You did good, Greene."

"How-"

"Was watchin'." He nodded back towards the observation room. She could slap him.

"You left me all alone? Dixon, you know I'm no good at that - I could've...I could've messed something up! And lord knows you would've been on my ass all day about-"

"You did good, Greene." He said again, and maybe she was crazy, but he almost sounded proud of her.

* * *

><p>It had been four days since Kelsey Lewis' body had been dropped from the roof of Daryl's apartment building. It had been five since Daryl had ruined pizza night, and now that the DNA tests had come through (postive - there wasn't a doubt in her mind Jones had done it, and they had a damn good case coming through), they finally had a chance to breath again. So tonight Dixon was taking her out - he'd promised her a pizza, and she was making sure he made good on that promise.<p>

"Those footprints still don't make sense," she said, frowning into her water glass. It was the one part of the case that wasn't fitting in.

"They do," Daryl said, leaning back in his seat, "He had to carry the body - we didn't see drag marks. Extra weight woulda made it seem like he was heavier than he was," he explained, and she nodded - it made sense. He could've figured that out before they spent a whole day looking for some non-existent fat guy, but at least they had it for the trial.

"One medium. Half Hawaiian, half everything," the waiter recited as he set the pie on the table between them.

"Thank you." Beth smiled as the boy turned to leave, before practically falling on her half of the pizza. She was hungry, it had been a long day of trying to find witnesses for the Martin case. There was no way in hell she was letting that man walk again.

"Still don't get how the hell you can eat pineapple on a fuckin' pizza." Daryl eyed her half with distaste.

"It's good." She shrugged, chewing contentedly.

"It's wrong," Daryl grumbled, pulling his slice free from its cheesey ties. They ate quietly for a while...she'd gotten used to this - the long silences. They'd gotten easier as time went on. Now she wasn't worried he was quiet 'cause he hated her or something...it's just how he was.

"You do anything exciting today?" She asked, taking her second slice. Daryl grunted, and she assumed that that meant no, "I found another witness for the Martin case...his mom apparently hasn't gotten on with him for a long time now. It'll help, but we're still missing the piece we really -"

"Don't start on that again, Greene," Daryl warned through a mouthful of pizza.

"Daryl we need to know the dealer - I don't know why you keep protectin' this guy! We can get him immunity or something, but if we're going to win-"

"We don't need him." Daryl's eyes met hers with that cold light, the one that meant he was serious. She shook her head, it was make-up pizza night. She fought with Dixon enough, might as well try and have a decent night while she could.

"Fine," she dropped her pizza to her plate and took a sip of her water, "I'll leave it alone."

Daryl grunted again, and she assumed that it was supposed to mean thank you. It was quiet again for a long time as she finished her second slice and he went for his third. She frowned at the pizza in front of her...how much was she going to regret that third slice...she was already feeling full. She blinked when Daryl was the one to break the quiet, he didn't normally do that.

"It good?" He asked, fist in front of his mouth as he chewed.

"Yeah, it's delicious." She smiled and took that third slice, _screw it, _she thought, _it's pizza night_, "Thank you." He gave a 'your welcome' grunt and she smiled softly, "You're gonna have to make those last three things pretty good."

"Things?" He asked, with a raised brow.

"You owed me six nice things," Beth said with a playful grin, "Three more Dixon, and don't think I won't be counting."

* * *

><p>It had been a while since Beth had had the time to just relax for a little while. The drive by case was at a dead end, the Martin case was at a dead end until she could weed that name out of Daryl, the Lewis case was closed. For the first time in a while she just laid out in her sweatpants with a glass of wine in hand, and got to pretend everything wasn't stressful.<p>

Maggie was still sulking somewhere upstairs...she hadn't forgiven Beth for not calling home that night she stayed with Daryl. Beth was too tired to care. Maggie was just being Maggie, and she always came around eventually - she couldn't be mad forever.

Speaking of the devil, footsteps started to creep down the stairs. Beth's eyes flitted to the clock, it was one in the morning. What was Maggie still doing up? She had work in the morning. For that matter what was Beth still doing up? She had to be at work even earlier. With a heavy sigh she dragged herself off the couch, she didn't know what Maggie wanted, but Beth knew she didn't want to be glared at until her sister finally skulked back up to bed.

Beth might as well get some sleep...who knew when the next body would turn up.

"You're still up?" Maggie's voice had lost it's harsh anger. She'd given up on being mad apparently.

"Was just goin to bed." Beth took the last sip of her wine, "What're you doin up?"

"Couldn't sleep…" Maggie had dark circles around her eyes again. Beth had been so busy being pissed with her sister she hadn't noticed she wasn't sleeping too well...she'd been doing better too.

The knot in her chest gave way, "You wanna talk about it?" Beth asked as Maggie threw her arms around her little sister, burying her face in the crook of her neck.

"Do you know how much I love you Bethy?"

"Maggie?" Beth asked, as she slipped her arms around her big sister's waist and held her closer.

"I'm sorry. I've been out of line the past couple days - it's just….just…"

"I scared you?" Beth asked, pulling back a bit to meet Maggie's eyes. Her sister nodded, lips tight, "I'm sorry too," she apologized letting her head fall to her sister's chest for a second - Maggie had always been a good bit taller - before the two of them slid back down to the couch. Beth watched her with concern as her fingers steepled over her nose, and she shook her head.

"I was on a business trip when Glenn died...I should've known something was wrong...we always talked every night." Beth nodded, they'd always been so close, inseparable really. She remembered the first time Maggie had brought Glenn home, and how happy she'd looked...how happy _they'd_ looked. Glenn would have done anything for her, anything. Their daddy knew that...their mom, Shawn. Everyone could see how much those two loved each other.

Sometimes she wondered if that same thing was visible in her and Zach...she didn't see him following her down here to Atlanta. Sure he was gonna come visit, but Glenn had moved back here for Maggie...she didn't see Zach doing that anytime soon.

"He wasn't picking up his phone...it wasn't till the third night I started getting worried." Beth frowned at the tears welling in her sister's eyes, "I came home early you know...he was the first thing I saw when I pulled the car into the garage."

"Maggie…" Beth leaned into her sister, and Maggie leaned back.

"Just...just call next time, alright?" Her voice seemed close to cracking, so Beth just nodded, letting them sit in silence until her sister could take a few deep breaths.

"You know he loved you right?" Beth asked.

"Yeah…" There was a smile in her words, "Yeah I do."

**My riding lesson got canceled, so I just drove back to my favorite coffee shop (I was here earlier this morning for a college interview) sat down, and made myself work. It's almost two PM right now, I'm going to go ahead drive home, edit this, and post it. Can't beleive how long this took, but I finally got it done. School turned out better than I thought it would...failed that paper for AP lit, but somehow I still have a really high B for the semester. It would be an A in any other school system, but my god damned state is on this twisted 7 point scale that means it's 93 - 100 for an A instead of 90-100, but anyways I'm ranting. **

**I hope you guys liked it! And I can't wait to hear back from you guys, really all the reviews I've gotten have made me so unbeleivably happy - every last one of you deserves such a huge thank you. **

**I'll see you guys soon! Follow me on tumblr for more updates, I'm considering starting up another story or two (maybe just one until this is finished). **


	4. Us

**Hey everyone! Thank you all so so so much for the response to the last chapter. Reading your reviews has been making me smile all weekend. I'm at school right now, just found out I'll definitely have an A in AP Lit (just barely, but all colleges see is the letter) so for like the first time in my life I have straight A's! So I'm in a pretty good mood right now haha. **

**So this fic is 100% planned out plotwise, so getting everything written from this point won't be too hard. It's just a matter of organization and making sure I don't fall behind on school work. Otherwise chapters should come out pretty regularly (There will be 10 in total, so six more after this!) **

**Once again, thank you all so so so much for reviewing and following and favoriting, or even just reading this. It really means so much to me. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! **

**Episode Four - Us **

Daryl hated runners. It wasn't the running part that was bad - he could go all day - it was when the runners had friends lurking around street corners. That's when he hated runners. He groaned, letting the door creak shut behind him. His jaw was sore, and his back hurt, and he was starting to regret all the dumb shit he'd done back in his twenties. Maybe one less tumble off of Merle's bike and he wouldn't feel like he'd gotten hit by a train when some asshole with a snapback clocked him.

It wasn't that difficult of a case - a break in gone wrong. Perp practically lived at the APD. He was in and out of there on burglary and drug charges so often that some of the admins down on the fourth floor had started up a monthly pool. (Daryl had thought about getting in on it, but if Lori found out he was gambling she'd have his head on a stick. Sometimes, he was more frightened of that woman than he was of Merle.) This time the idiot had taken it just a step too far and gotten someone killed, so he and Beth had tracked him down.

The kid, Randall Larson, knew Daryl - he'd had to question him once or twice on a case - so of course the little shit took off the moment he saw them coming. He'd be damned if he ever figured out how he'd gotten a look out that quick, but Daryl turned a corner, and ended up with a fist in his face. Randall had expected Daryl to be a problem (and his friend found out he was a damn big problem after a few good hits the ribs and a pair of handcuffs), but he hadn't been expecting Beth Greene.

To be fair, Daryl hadn't been expecting Beth Greene.

If someone had told him that first day when he saw her sitting in Carol's old chair with her wispy blonde hair, and those big blue eyes, that she'd be literally taking down criminals just a month later...he would've laughed in their face. He hadn't expected that girl to make it more than a week. Hadn't expected that girl to come tearing up behind him, hell bent on a man twice her size. Certainly hadn't expected her to be able to get him on the ground, but then again, he was pretty sure Randall Larson hadn't been expecting a hundred and ten pounds to hit him in the knees.

He would've laughed if it weren't a damn murder case.

Yeah...he hadn't expected it, but the girl was made of nails. Pretty as sunshine, but there was steel in her. Not that he would be caught dead telling her that.

He didn't even bother going to his room, just stripped as he shuffled to the bathroom, letting clothes fall to the floor behind him. All he wanted right now was a nice, hot shower, and a few hours sleep before he had to get up and do this shit all over again.

Goosebumps raised over his skin as he twisted the water on, and frowned. The showerhead hissed and spat, and icy water dribbled to floor, but the damn thing sure as hell wasn't on. Muttering, he pushed back the curtain and stepped in, glaring up at the rusted old thing - didn't look blocked.

It was the pipes again, wasn't it? He didn't know why he'd chosen to live in an old building, probably something to do with rent and not wanting to get up at four in the morning, but he was kind of regretting it. It was two a.m., but he'd be damned if he didn't get a shower before he went to bed.

Grumbling as he followed his trail of clothing back into the living room, redressing himself along the way, he went to go find a wrench. He was lucky, his building's portion of the plumbing ran through his apartment, the pipes all hidden in a closet in his room. Sure, it meant that he got woken up every time someone flushed a toilet, but at least he didn't have to call his super every time some little thing went wrong.

Throwing the closet open, and grabbing the flashlight he always kept next to it, he started looking around. He knew which pipes ran into his apartment, and which went to his upstairs neighbors (he often considered just turning their water off, they were assholes), so it didn't take long to find the issue. There was a leak.

"Well that won't be a problem," he said to himself, quickly taking the wrench to the leaky joint and twisting. The water stopped, and he smiled, more than a little satisfied with himself... right up until the moment that something in the pipe groaned, "Shit."

And then it burst.

* * *

><p>It was the middle of summer, but the middle of summer at three in the morning wasn't necessarily all that warm. With soaked clothes plastered to his skin - it was absolutely freezing. He was doing his best not to look like he was shivering as he begrudgingly rung the doorbell. There wasn't even a small part of him that wanted to be doing this, but he didn't exactly have a lot of options. It was here or the Grimes' and there wasn't a damn thing that would make him commute an hour into Atlanta.<p>

He could hear someone coming down the stairs. He bit his lip, resisting the urge to hit the doorbell again so they'd hurry the fuck up. It seemed like ages before the door opened.

"Dixon?" Her voice was thick and sleepy, lids drooping over her big blue eyes, "Dixon what the hell? It's three in the morning." She blinked a few times, a floppy sleeve covered hand going up to hide a yawn.

"Can I stay on your couch?" He decided he'd rather look at the ground than her and her oversized sweater. That was until he realized she wasn't wearing anything more than that sweater, and quickly settled on the shiny number one-o-one next to the door. Damn girl needed to start wearing pants.

"Something wrong with your couch?" She asked, and even though he couldn't see her, he could hear that playful little smirk on her lips. He ducked his head a bit and glanced up at her, she was starting to look a little more coherent as she woke up, "Why are you wet?" He wasn't going to answer that question, and he sure as hell wasn't going to look at her as her hands - incredibly warm hands - pressed against his chest, "Oh my God, you're freezing! Get in here." She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside.

"I'm fine." He shook her off, shutting the door.

"Daryl are you shivering?"

He scowled at her, "No." It was a blatant lie, and they both knew it. He wouldn't meet her eyes as he cursed the muscles that jerked and trembled under his skin.

"Daryl why wouldn't you just put on dry clothes?" She asked, sounding like she thought it was funny or something.

"Didn't have any," he mumbled, holding up a dripping gym bag he'd shoved some of his soaked work clothes into.

She sighed, and she laughed, and she brushed her dainty fingers against his as she took the bag from his hands, "C'mon, Dixon. Let's get you upstairs and -"

"I told you I can stay on the couch," he cut her off, trying to figure out why the hell the back of his neck was warm as she put one hand between his shoulder blades, and another on his arm, and started pushing him towards the stairs.

"Daryl, if I let you touch any furniture right now Maggie's gonna have a fit." He thought about protesting more, but decided it wasn't worth it. Instead he just pulled himself from her grip so he could at least walk up the stairs of his own volition.

He'd been in her house before, but never gone farther than the living room. He'd never come for anything other than dragging her off to a murder scene so it hadn't exactly been necessary.

"C'mon, bathroom's down here," she said, padding down the hall ahead of him with bare feet and a mess of blonde hair. She usually kept it up at work, but apparently she slept with it down - looked nice. She stopped in front of a door on the left, and flicked on the light - sleepy eyes shining up at him as his chest jerked in another shiver. "Jesus Christ, Dixon, c'mon lets get you out of that shirt - you're gonna catch pneumonia or something."

He stiffened as her fingers went to the top button under his throat, grabbing her hand he pushed it back down, "I can undress myself, Greene," he growled, stepping past her and into the bathroom.

"Well throw those clothes to me when you're done will you?" She asked as he shut the door, "I'm gonna go put all this in the dryer." He just grunted in response, too tired to really say anything. He pulled his clothes off, wincing as his back twinged, and opened the door just wide enough to shove them through. Her footsteps faded down the hall as he pulled the curtain shut and turned on the water, letting it get just a bit warm before he stepped in.

He couldn't help but groan, damn that felt good. He waited until it was bone searing hot before he turned the cold faucet - he'd rather not look like a lobster when he got out of there. Eyes heavy with exhaustion he let his head hang as the freezing cold was replaced by steam, and mind numbing heat.

He should actually wash since he was in the shower, wasn't like it was going to be long before he had to go back to work anyways. He'd forgotten soap...he could live without shampoo and all that shit, but he figured soap was kind of necessary. Glancing around the rim of the tub he saw one light purple bar, and one pale blue bottle. Picking it up and flipping it over he scowled as he read the title, Coconut Dream. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd go around all day smelling like anyone's fruity fantasies.

And he sure as hell wasn't gonna have Porter smelling him with that shit on. That fucking lab rat didn't know when to shut up.

Setting the bottle back down he picked up the soap instead, and gave it a hesitant sniff. True to its color it was lavender, his nose crinkled, really strong lavender. Deciding it was better than Coconut Dream he lathered it on, and promised himself he'd use extra deodorant today - maybe it would even everything out.

Smelling of lavender and feeling much warmer he stepped out of the shower, and to nothing short of horror he realized he didn't have a damn thing left to wear. Every piece of clothing he owned was either soaking wet in his flooded apartment, or soaking wet in Beth's dryer. There was one, smaller than necessary, bath towel hanging on the rack which he quickly wrapped around his waist.

That didn't do a damn thing to cover his back though, and truth be told he'd rather she see his dick than his scars. All guys had dicks, they were a bit easier to explain than well...he eyed the thick, ropey lines that traced over his skin...than those. It wasn't like he cared if strangers saw them - fuck he'd gotten tattoos before - it was just, he cared if they cared. And he didn't know Beth Greene all that well, but he knew damn well that she'd care.

He just hoped she wouldn't care enough to ask.

There was a knock at the door, "Dixon?"

He took a deep breath, and turned the knob, letting the door swing open. Her eyes were lingering on his chest, and he couldn't quite decide how that made him feel. His jaw tightened, and he tried to think about something other than the eyes burning a hole into him, "You done ogling?" He grumbled, and she snapped her gaze up to his face - cheeks a bit red.

He should've just stayed at the Grimes'.

"Just reading the tattoo," she mumbled, "May, that your birth month or something?"

"My mom," he said quickly, another thing he didn't want her asking questions about.

She nodded, "I was just bringing you -" she trailed off, brow furrowing, "Daryl is that a bruise?" Her fingers shot up to brush along his jawline, and he held still doing his best not to jerk away. He'd rather her worry herself over a bruise than his back. "I told you you needed to put some ice on that."

"I'm fine," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"Daryl, you got punched in the face."

"I'm fine." A hard edge crept into his voice, and he could practically feel her rolling her eyes.

"Whatever, Dixon." She shoved something into his hands, "They were Glenn's…" She trailed off awkwardly, "He was smaller than you, they might be kinda tight, but it's uh - better than nothing."

He held the shirt a little tighter, "Thank you. I...I appreciate it."

"Right…" She'd started to drift down the hall, when she stopped and looked back at him, "Me and Maggie have the rooms on the left, either door on the right's open. Take your pick." He nodded, watching her head to her room, "G'night, Daryl," she said with a sleepy smile.

"G'night, Greene."

With a sigh he toweled off his hair and pulled on Glenn Rhee's shirt and sweats - he wasn't sure if he liked wearing a dead man's clothes either, but Glenn had been a good guy. Daryl was pretty sure he wouldn't have minded.

He glanced at his watch, it was three thirty in the morning. Suppressing a groan he stumbled into the room across from Beth's. At least he'd get a couple hours sleep.

* * *

><p>Beth would've liked to have been asleep still, but she'd had to take a shower, and get everything ready for work. She'd let Daryl sleep a bit longer, he'd looked like hell when he showed up on her doorstep a couple hours before, but she wouldn't let him sleep too long. A tired Dixon was a manageable Dixon. With the weight of exhaustion in her limbs, she gathered Daryl's warm clothes from the dryer.<p>

He needed to be up soon if he wanted to eat breakfast.

Maggie was still asleep, and she assumed Daryl was too so she quietly opened his door. He looked peaceful when he was sleeping - shaggy hair laying across his face, arms tangled in the sheets. It was hard to make out distinct features in the dim light from the hallway, but it almost seemed like he was smiling.

It didn't last long, his eyes snapped open the moment she slipped past the threshold, and the gentle smile quickly pulled into a scowl, "Greene?" He groaned, squinting into the light, "The fuck you doin?"

"Clothes," she said, dropping the pile of warm laundry at his feet, "Get dressed, breakfast'll be ready soon." He looked dead tired, _Good_, she thought. Maybe he would be too tired to be grumpy.

"You're makin' breakfast?" He asked, sitting up.

"Toast okay with you, Dixon?" She smiled, though she doubted he could see her face in the dark. He was watching her, blue eyes catching the light. There was something in his stare that made her stomach tighten, her chest, her throat. She always used to think it was because he was an intimidating jackass - but now she wasn't sure what to think. So she didn't.

"Yeah...s'fine," he muttered, rubbing his face through his hands, voice still husky with sleep. With a heavy sigh he flipped back the covers and pulled himself out of bed. It wasn't until he turned on the light that she realized she'd been staring too.

She wasn't going to think about it.

Instead, she left him to get dressed and went downstairs to start shoving bread into the toaster. Maggie wasn't supposed to be up for another hour or so, but she tended to wake up when Beth started banging around downstairs. She'd almost say that the addition of an extra person would make Maggie get up even faster, but that extra person was Daryl, and Daryl didn't exactly count. He was too damn quiet.

The toast had just popped up when he appeared in the kitchen, fully dressed though his hair stuck out all funny. He looked like a zombie, dragging himself onto one of the bar-counter stools. Beth tried not to giggle as he struggled to keep his head up. She'd seen him this tired a few times before - and for her, they had always turned out to be great days - but she knew the sleepy Daryl wouldn't last. Sure he usually forgot to be mean, but he managed to perk himself up enough not to look half-dead at work. Shame, it was cute when he was like this.

"Coffee?" She slid the mug over to him, two spoons of sugar and a splash of cream.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a sip as Beth put the toast on plates, and slid that over too.

"Jelly's on your left," she said, walking around the counter to sit next to him.

"Anything from Grimes?" He asked, pulling the jar of strawberry over.

"Nope," she stole the jelly before he was done, earning herself a glare, "No new bodies today." He just nodded, waiting for her to pass the jelly back, "That's good though, Martin trial's coming up. Got a lot stuff I need to do, Andrea's been on my butt all week." Daryl's shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, "What?"

"Kinda thought it might be good cause no one died." He bit back a smile and took a bite of toast instead, she glared, rolling her eyes.

"It's your fault - you're turning me into a jaded old man."

"You callin' me old?" He asked, sitting up a bit straighter, shoulders pushed back.

She couldn't help but giggle, "Well you're older than me...so yeah, you're old."

"I'm thirty six," he grumbled, taking a long swig of coffee. Beth was kind of surprised, he didn't look thirty six - sure he didn't look like he was in his twenties or anything, but she'd been guessing early thirties not late. Good for him.

"Ten years older than me." She shoved the last bite of toast in her mouth, and hopped down to put her plate away, "Old man," she added, smiling at his dirty look.

It was five ten, they needed to be going - Andrea had said she would be stopping by today, and she figured she shouldn't risk being late in the presence of the prosecutor. She took Daryl's plate, ignoring his protest as he watched the last half piece of toast make its way to the trash. "C'mon, we need to go."

"Beth!" Maggie yelled, and she froze as footsteps jogged down the stairs, "Beth whose -" she stopped suddenly, staring at the two of them with a pair of boxers in her hands. Daryl's boxers to be specific. Beth watched in horror as her partner and her sister made eye contact, and then all gazes landed on the underwear in question, everyone holding a mortified poker face.

Maggie squealed, chucking the boxers at them before turning and scampering up the stairs. Daryl looked even more dead inside than before...yeah she was feeling pretty dead inside too.

A rough hand closed around her shoulder, and he pushed her towards the door, "Let's go, Greene."

* * *

><p>It was well past noon when Andrea finally knocked on an open office door. She was a lot later than Beth had expected, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing - she'd needed the time to pull things together. For all the indisputable evidence they'd had on Martin over the years it was surprisingly difficult to keep him incarcerated. As far as Beth was concerned he shouldn't see the light of day again.<p>

"How're we doing, rookie?" Andrea asked, tossing a couple files onto Beth's desk before taking the chair opposite. Beth had met Andrea more than a few times when she came to visit Amy up in New York. She liked the woman, she never treated her like some kid.

Beth pushed her own files over to Andrea, "Good I think. Got a bunch of witnesses lined up for you. Testimonies from some of the cops who've been dealing with the family, Layla Martin's mother, the daughter, some neighbors -"

Andrea's lips drew into a thin frown, "But no one who could say for sure it was him."

"Well, I mean it's obvious!" Beth said, pointing at the big case file between them, "We don't have any other suspects."

"You didn't exactly look for any other suspects," Andrea said, taking a sip of her to-go coffee.

"We didn't need to -"

"Tell that to Martin's lawyer," Andrea uncrossed her legs, leaning forward a bit as her lips took a bitter twist, "He's got a good one. Gary Merrit. Moraless son of a bitch, but he can talk circles around anyone." Beth sighed dropping her head to her hands, "Beth, we've got a good case here, but it's not solid - there's too many holes, too many questions that haven't been answered."

"He can't walk after this, there's too many charges - no on in their right mind would believe he didn't do it."

"He won't walk, but he ain't gonna stay down long. I've seen Merrit get people out of a lot worse before." She shook her head, looking tired. Beth wasn't the only one staying up long nights on this case, Andrea had prosecuted Martin before...she wanted him behind bars as much as anyone.

Beth shook her head, "The trial's in two days. What the hell are we going to do?"

"We need the name of his dealer," Andrea said, "he's the only one who saw him within twenty four hours of the murder who's still breathing."

A sinking feeling settled deep in her gut, yeah they needed the one thing she couldn't get, "Dixon's never going to give him up."

"Well make him." Andrea had steel in her voice and a hard look in her eyes, "I've been in the court system too long to trust it. Martin walks, and those little girls are going to be back in his hands before you know it." The lawyer started gathering Beth's files, moving to stand.

"Andrea you've talked to Dixon before! You know what he's like - trying to get his favorite color out of him is like pulling nails!"

"Get me that name Beth." Andrea said, a simple ultimatum that was ridiculously complicated to achieve. With that she left, striding out the door with her coffee and the determined click of high heels.

Groaning, Beth hit her head against her desk, and not having the energy to pick it back up just laid there. She was going to have to talk to Dixon eventually, but every fiber of her being was telling her to stay exactly where she was and take a nap. She shifted so her cheek was on the cool wood, and her eyes were on Daryl Dixon. He was glaring at his laptop, the cup of coffee he'd come dangerously close to begging her to stop and get still clutched in his hand.

The talk could wait a little bit...she glanced at the big red mark on her calendar, two more days...just a little bit.

* * *

><p>Daryl stood at the break room counter trying to decide if it was worth it or not. He could feel his eyelids drooping, and his limbs felt heavy...but was he really willing to drink that shit? On a normal day he would've hopped in his truck and driven the ten blocks to the nearest Starbucks, but his truck was at Beth's house, and he didn't want to walk ten blocks.<p>

He bit his lip, feeling horribly indecisive, which was odd. He could ask Beth if she'd go pick something up for him...but he'd already had her do his laundry for him. He didn't ask her to do it or anything, but he didn't want to keep pushing the nice button to see when it would break.

With a curled lip and silent string of curses, he poured the foul smelling coffee into a little styrofoam cup. He was surprised it didn't melt.

"The world end or something?" He looked up, Beth was smirking at him from the doorway. He blinked a few times, and she flicked her gaze from him to the coffee on the counter.

He shook his head, "Jus' tired."

She let out a short laugh, and flounced in to stand next to him, close enough to smell Coconut Dreams on her. She could probably tell he smelled like lavender today, and he reminded himself to ask her to swing by his apartment on the way back to her place. He wanted his own damn shampoo tonight.

"You know, you could've just asked me to go get something for you." She leaned back against the counter, peering up at him through thick eyelashes as her arm brushed his. Since when had he liked the smell of coconut? His pulse picked up, and he told himself he was really excited about coffee.

"That offer still standin'?" He asked, glancing at the revolting excuse for coffee still sitting untouched on the counter.

Her teeth grazed across her bottom lip as she pushed down a smile and shook her head. He fought off the urge to roll his eyes. "I dunno… I think you're gonna have to drink that coffee, Dixon."

"You wanna tell me why?" He asked, voice low and eyes narrowed though they both knew damn well he didn't mean it.

"Revenge," she said, shrugging nonchalantly. He nodded, kicking himself for throwing her to the wolves the other week. He should've known that would come back to bite him in the ass. She threw him a mischievous smile and he shook his head, reaching around her for the coffee.

He took a long, slow sip, doing his best not to let his face twist in disgust - he'd had worse things in his mouth before, "Happy?" He asked, trying to ignore the burning in his throat.

"Maybe," she said, teeth finding her lip again. He was gonna go nuts if she kept doing that...he was gonna go nuts if he kept thinking like that. The girl was ten years younger than him, and his partner at that - he had no business thinking about her lips.

Rolling his eyes at her he took another sip of the coffee. At least the caffeine content was high. He was starting to wake up a bit "So, what you been up to today, Greene?" He asked, glancing down at her. He was kind of wondering why she was still here - wasn't going for the coffee, or pulling any snacks from the fridge. He'd never claimed to be a captivating conversationalist, so he wasn't sure what was left for her.

"Not much," she said, "Just last minute stuff for the Martin case...you ready to testify?"

"Yeah," he grunted.

"No stage fright?" she teased.

"Pfft," he blew her off, taking a sip of the coffee, "I don't get stage fright. Can talk in front of people just fine."

"Can you?" She raised an eyebrow, and he jammed an elbow into her ribs. She laughed that musical little laugh of hers as she regained her balance, "Jerk!"

He just nodded, holding a smirk in, "What about you, Greene? This is your first trial."

"No it ain't."

"First murder trial," he corrected himself, "It's different when you're tryna find justice for a dead kid, instead of someone's flat screen."

"Yeah…" She said, a nervous little frown tugging at her lips. He was about to reach out for her, a gentle touch that came from lord knew where - the girl was gonna do fine at the damn trial, she was a good detective - when she spoke, "Daryl I need the drug dealer's name."

His hand fell back to his side before it ever closed the distance between them. He wasn't going to do that. If Merle testified he'd get thrown back in prison, and fifteen years on the force hadn't managed to strip him of the little voice deep down that told him Merle was his brother. He was a violent, bitter asshole with more addictions than real teeth (lost more than one in bar fights over the years, Daryl on the other hand, had remained sober enough to remember to duck).

Rick understood that, had understood it from that first night when he'd spoken to Daryl through the bars of the station's one holding cell. If Merle hadn't been so high that he couldn't tell a lamp from Jesus, he might've told Daryl to tell Rick to shove it up his ass. But Merle hadn't been sober enough to say a damn thing, and Rick was a bit more persuasive than he looked. Rick knew they were brothers, and he would let Daryl overlook things when it came to Merle. Said it was good to have him around, Merle might not be a snitch, but he wasn't above a bit of 'brotherly advice' from time to time.

Wouldn't even have known where Martin was hiding out if it weren't for Merle. Felt wrong to throw him under the bus.

Beth must've seen the shadow that fell over his eyes, 'cause that nervous little frown hardened with a stiff lip. "You know my answer to that, Greene."

"Daryl we don't have a solid case without him!" She argued, turning to face him full on.

"We've got a case," he growled, chucking the half finished coffee in the trash, "ain't a damn jury in their right mind who wouldn't put him away."

"Dixon, it don't matter if he gets put away, it matters that he stays away!" She said, fire in her eyes, and he shook her off, stalking towards the door. She followed relentlessly. He was starting to see the side of her that leapt headfirst into a murderer's knees.

"He's gonna stay away, Greene. He killed his damn wife and child!"

"No one saw him do it," she hissed. Eyes started to follow the pair as she practically chased them back towards their offices, "The only person who saw him anywhere near the time of the murder was your fucking dealer."

"He ain't my dealer," he muttered, knowing that wasn't what she meant, but he didn't particularly like the insinuation either way.

"I don't care!" She snapped, "I don't care who he is, I care that we make sure Martin can never get back at the two kids he didn't manage to kill the first time!"

He turned suddenly, stopping her short. She was glaring up at him with pursed lips and a steel that didn't match her porcelain exterior, "It ain't gonna happen. We gotta a good case without him…." He took a deep breath, trying not to get too mad at her, she was just doing her job. Wasn't her fault he wasn't going to tell her he was related to drug dealers who fraternized with child killers...sure Merle had been pissed when he found out what Martin had done, but most people didn't take the time to draw a distinction between Merle and his customers. There was a line, fine as hair, but it was there - and he didn't think someone like Beth was gonna see it.

He shook his head, "Look, Greene, it's gonna be easier if we just leave him out of it." With that he turned towards his office.

"Easier for who?" She caught him by the wrist, "Lily Martin, or you?"

With a growl he shook her off, and slammed his office door behind him.

* * *

><p>Daryl Dixon was the most impossible, selfish, infuriating man she had ever had the misfortune to deal with. He could coat himself in as much cedar, and spice, and roguish charm as he wanted - but at the end of the day Beth wouldn't have minded smacking him around the ears. She had left without him, if he wanted to get a cab out here he was more than welcome to come back, but she wasn't going to do him the favor of a ride home.<p>

The door slammed behind her as she kicked off her shoes, and strode into the kitchen, throwing her bag up onto the counter. Maggie watched it all with bemused silence. Her older sister had never taken her anger seriously, said it was like watching some little baby chick - all golden and innocent - squabbling around, screaming murder. The first time she had said that Beth had had half a mind to tell her that chick's beaks hurt just as much the full grown birds, and she'd've known that if she would've spent a damn moment with them.

Maggie had always thought the birds were too smelly.

Her sister's smirk wasn't doing much for her mood, and her next comment didn't help either, "Daryl not coming home with you tonight?"

"He doesn't live here," Beth said, yanking the fridge open.

"Well he's keeping underwear here now," Maggie said with a laugh, taking a bite of what looked like leftover stir fry. Beth just glared at her, not wanting to relive the awkward hell that had been this morning. "So," Maggie said through a mouthful of broccoli, "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"Dixon." Beth slammed the fridge, not seeing anything particularly appetizing.

Maggie snorted, earning another glare that Beth was sure she just found endearing, "Really?" Maggie asked with amusement.

"He's my partner Maggie, I'm not fucking him."

Maggie just nodded, contemplating, "Really, that's the biggest barrier? Not the boyfriend up in New York?"

Beth shook her head, not dignifying that with a response - though she made a mental note to call Zach, she hadn't done that in a couple days. Maybe she'd just go take a bath, lay down in the hot water and forget Dixon for a while.

Beth was almost up the stairs when Maggie's voice called from the kitchen, the amusement replaced with a familiar, lost tone, "Beth?"

This happened sometimes, little things reminded her of him. Last time it was Beth suggesting they get a New York White pizza, it had been Glenn's favorite. Lord only knew what had triggered her memories, but Beth was duty bound to let the anger slip from her chest and turn back around. Maggie was her sister after all.

"Yeah?" She stopped in the threshold to the kitchen. Maggie was staring half heartedly at a half eaten bowl of stir fry.

"Have you heard anything else about Glenn?" Yeah she should've expected that question...an odd bit of guilt stirred in her gut, and she almost wished a pissed as all hell Daryl would burst through the door and give her an out of the conversation.

"No, Maggie, there haven't been any big developments," Beth said carefully.

"I don't care if they're big or not!" Maggie snapped, setting her fork down with a clatter, "I just need to know something!" Beth opened her mouth, trying to find words to respond, "Have you even been asking?"

"Maggie," Beth began softly, "You know it's not that easy."

"Well it can't be that hard!" Maggie glared at her, tears starting to well in her eyes. Beth suddenly didn't want to be home. She wasn't angry, just tired, and being here was about as exhausting as anything.

Knowing there was nothing she could say to heal Maggie's wounds, that she just needed time and answers that Beth couldn't provide, she shook her head. It was quiet for a long time, "I'm gonna go back to the office okay?" Beth grabbed her bag and started fishing for her keys, "Stuff I forgot to do…"

Maggie's expression softened, realizing she'd been harsher than she needed to be, "You haven't had anything to eat."

"I think Daryl left part of a ham sandwich in the fridge." Beth swung her purse over her shoulder, "He owes me anyways."

* * *

><p>She didn't knock on Daryl's closed door to see if he was in or not, instead she quietly slipped into her office, and started working. If Daryl wasn't going to give up the dealer's name, she was going to make damn certain that every other piece of this case was absolutely bullet proof. She was organizing the forensic evidence Stookey had sent her, making sure it would get to Andrea in the most efficient form possible (plus full annotation, courtesy of Eugene Porter who seemed to think his boss's less technical report was nothing short of blasphemy - Beth thought it was a godsend, she didn't want to sift through fifty pages of science jargon), when she noticed someone at the door.<p>

"What are you still doing here?" Michonne asked with a sleepy smile, leaning in her doorway.

"Working," Beth laughed, "You?"

"Same," Michonne looked pretty tired - as tired as Beth felt. She really should get some sleep, but she had so much to do here, and a morose sister that she was helpless to console at home, "I was justing heading out for the night though...unless you need help with anything?"

"No," Beth said quickly, "I don't want to impose. You need your sleep."

Michonne nodded, looking thankful Beth hadn't actually taken her up on the offer, "Everything okay between you and Dixon?" She asked suddenly, and Beth blinked, "Saw your little spat out in the hall this afternoon."

"It's fine," Beth sighed, shaking her head, "just Dixon being Dixon."

"You sure?"

"Don't worry, Michonne, me and Daryl will be just fine," Beth smiled.

"Good," Michonne looked at her pointedly, "You two are solving too many cases to fuck up now." With that she disappeared down the hallway, and Beth listened as footsteps faded, and the elevator dinged. Beth sighed, now that she'd been pulled away from her work she was feeling more than a bit reluctant to get back to it.

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she stood up. A walk would be good, get the blood flowing again. Maybe she'd break down and brew herself a pot of break room coffee. Slipping down the abandoned hallways towards the break room she noticed an open door that should've been closed. Michonne had forgotten to lock up when she left.

Thinking she'd be helpful, and close her office for her, Beth stepped towards the open door. Michonne really must've been tired, her lights were still on, computer still powered up, files open on her desk. She almost just turned the lock from the inside, flipped off the lights, and shut the door - almost. Something caught her eye though, and she was swept back to moment when Maggie had held her, and admitted she was scared. All those moments when she'd snapped, and reminisced, and held back tears.

Right there on the desk, was Glenn Rhee's face peering up at her.

Sparing a glance down the hall, she slipped into the office, and slid around to look at the file. There were pictures - his APD i.d. photo, crime scene photos that made her stomach turn a bit, more that Stookey must've taken in the morgue. There were Michonne's notes, Rosita's notes, the transcripts from the few testimonies they'd gotten - one was Maggie's - and over all very little that she didn't already know about the case. Glenn Rhee had been hung in his own home, and no one knew why it had been done - just that Glenn had been acting oddly paranoid the last few days he was alive.

Top suspect was a man named Tomas Aziza, whom they had no solid proof on. All they really knew was that Glenn had a lot of people who could've been mad at him - a lot of people who wouldn't shy away from murder. The only thing Beth learned was that for some reason there were a lot of files missing from his computer. Maybe the murderer had done some hacking work too?

Whatever they'd done to get rid of those files, it had the techs completely stumped - no way of retrieving them so far.

She took one last long look at Glenn's smiling face, before settling the file back in its original place. With a sigh, she was about to turn and leave when the name on the file beneath Glenn's caught her eye: Carol Peletier.

* * *

><p>Daryl had hoped that Beth would wake him up again that morning, but he hadn't expected it. No he definitely hadn't expected it, she was pissed at him after all - hell, she'd made him find his own way back to her place. So instead of Beth's soft footsteps, he woke to the harsh clang of his phone alarm. Groggy and wishing he could go back to sleep, he stumbled into the bathroom. The shampoo he'd paid the cab drive an extra twenty bucks to go pick up was on the counter.<p>

At least he wouldn't spend the day smelling like lavender. He frowned, Beth was usually up by now, but the shower was dry. She must've been sleeping in.

Stripping down he stepped into the hot water, and let it pour over his bare shoulders. He couldn't help but wonder if Beth was right...no he knew Beth was right...he couldn't help but wonder if he should actually listen to her. He arched his neck back, running his fingers through his hair as the water soaked in. Merle was Merle, and he was going to end up in jail for one stupid reason or another in the long run.

He was stubborn, and he knew that, but she was right. The case wasn't as strong without Merle. Didn't mean he wanted to put his brother in that situation, didn't even mean Merle would agree to testify if they went to him. He sighed, trying to push all thoughts out of his head, just focus on the heat of the water on his back.

He was expecting to hear Beth coming down the hall by the time he got out of the shower. He thought he'd run into her on his way down the stairs. Thought she'd be in the kitchen making breakfast. She wasn't any of those places though, and he frowned, quietly walking back up the stairs.

Softly as possible, in hopes of not having another encounter with her sister, he knocked on Beth's door. Nothing. Ever so slowly, he turned the knob and let it swing open. Nothing. Her room was empty, it smelled like her, and her clothes were strewn everywhere - but the rumped sheets were all that occupied her bed.

He frowned, had she gone into work already...without showering?

"I didn't take you as the guy who liked to watch girls sleep." The voice came from behind him, and he jumped, slamming Beth's door shut. Maggie Greene was staring at him with a pointed gaze and a raised brow.

The back of his neck burned hot, and he glared at her, "Can't stare at a girl who ain't there."

Maggie frowned, "Did she not come home last night?" Daryl shrugged, and Maggie passed him, opening the door to look in for herself, "Was she still working when you left?"

He shook his head, suddenly not liking that he didn't know where she was, "She left before I did."

"No," Maggie said, "She went back to work, after she came home, she went back - said she had things to finish." The woman's lips were drawn into a thin frown as she pulled her phone from her pocket, "She hasn't called."

"Mighta gone into work early," he said, though it came out a bit more like a question.

Maggie just shrugged, frowning into the empty room, "Dunno, she was in a pretty bad mood last night." Yeah that made sense, and it was probably his fault. He sighed, stepping into Beth's room and looking out the window. Her car was gone.

"I'm going to go into the office," he said, heading back into the hall, "she's probably working."

Maggie nodded, "Have her text me when you find her."

* * *

><p>Her hair looked a right mess. There were bags under her eyes, and a cup of break room coffee in her hand. It looked like her make up had started to smudge at some point, and she either hadn't notice or was far too tired to care. At least she was here though, here and not wrecked on the side of the highway.<p>

Her gaze briefly met his as he leaned in her doorway. She was hunched over that laptop, staring at it like it was her last link to sanity. He shook his head, she hadn't even come home had she? And from the dazed way she was staring at her computer he didn't think she'd bothered to get any sleep at all.

"You tryna run yourself into the ground?" He asked, voice far softer now than it had been the last time they'd spoke.

"I'm trying to win this case," she replied curtly.

"You been workin' all night?" She didn't respond to that, just stared at her laptop. He took a deep breath, watching her with something that almost felt like worry. When had he gotten to the point that he was worried about Beth Greene? Though, thinking back on the night that Frank Martin had tried to run a knife through her chest, he supposed he might've reached that point a long time ago.

Merle was going to be just fine, he always was. "His name is Merle," Daryl spoke up, and Beth's eyes quickly found his. They looked a little bloodshot, and the pallor in her skin hinted that she could probably use something in her stomach that wasn't the toxic sludge of the break room.

"I'm going to need a last name, Daryl," she said, her voice was tired, but her tone was no longer clipped.

It was all going to come out into the open one day, why not now? He focused his gaze on the pencil holder on the desk instead of her, and he took another deep breath, "Dixon."

* * *

><p>Beth wasn't sure what she expected out of Daryl Dixon's brother. Daryl himself was such a contradiction that his brother could've been anything under the sun. She'd already known he was a drug dealer, and stoic Daryl seemed almost ashamed of him, so there must have been some part of her that knew what was waiting for her in that interrogation room. However, she didn't think there was anything that could've prepared her for Merle Dixon.<p>

The first thing she heard was a whistle, long and low, "Didn't tell me you were bringing girls, baby brother." Ice blue eyes raked down her body, and she was overcome by the desire to hit this man.

"Fuck off, Merle." Daryl sent his brother a heavy glare, and Merle grinned back, tongue slipping over his lips as he looked at Beth again.

"And who might you be, sweetheart?"

Beth kept her face straight, "Beth Greene, I'm Daryl's partner."

"Beth," Merle played her name over his tongue as she and Daryl sat across from him.

"Why don't we try lookin' somewhere else huh?" Daryl rapped the table with his knuckles, grabbing Merle's attention. His older brother's gaze snapped from her, and over to him - there was something calculating in Merle's eyes, shrewd. He might not have made anything of himself like Daryl had, but that same cool, intelligence was still there. They were brothers through and through.

A grin spread over Merle's lips, "Mighty protective aren't we, baby brother?"

"Fuck off, Merle," he repeated, sending him a withering look that Merle laughed off. Maybe it was just an older sibling thing, Maggie didn't put any stock in her harsh words either.

"So y'all gonna tell me why I've been dragged all the way down here? We normally do this shit somewhere a bit more comfortable," his eyes went to Beth again, the flirty heat replaced by something cold. Merle Dixon liked strangers about as much as his little brother did, "bit more private."

Daryl looked like he was about to respond when she cut in, "We're here to talk to you about Frank Martin." Beth kept her tone professional, though there was a shortness to it - she was having issues pretending she liked Merle Dixon.

Merle looked to his brother, "Already helped you catch that son of a bitch, told you I was done with him - ain't sellin' to him no more."

"Course you ain't," Daryl snorted, "He's in jail without bond till the trial's done with."

"An' what's that got to do with me?" Merle had slouched back in his seat, head tilted ever so slightly down, but eyes on them - like he was the most intimidating man in the room, but he couldn't really give a shit either way. She'd seen that position before, in this very room, just on her side of the table...now she knew where Daryl had gotten it.

"We need you to testify," Daryl said, and his eyes found Beth's for just a second. For all he had in common with his older brother, there was a softness in those eyes that she didn't see in Merle Dixon. She nodded to him, thankful for what he'd done for her - and for just a moment, she thought the corner of his mouth curled upward.

Merle scoffed, "Brother, you know that ain't happening - this ain't some drugs bust, you can't get me immunity for this shit." Beth frowned, raising an eyebrow at Daryl, he still hadn't told her everything about that night. Merle seemed to sense her confusion, "Courts don't take kindly to selling coke or hiding murderers, darling."

"You hid him?"

Merle shrugged, "He didn't tell me it was his kid - least I could do to help a faithful customer." He laughed, "They ain't so regular when they're on lockdown."

"Merle, we need you up on the stand," Daryl said.

Merle shook his head, "Ain't happenin', baby brother. I go up there, an' I'm goin' back to jail."

"We can work something out -"

"It ain't happenin'," Merle growled low, glaring. He was kind of like a big dog with his hackles up - guarded eyes, and a snarl on his lips.

Beth held back a sigh as the brothers stared each other down. This wasn't going to go anywhere fast...too many stubborn people in one room.

* * *

><p>Beth didn't know why she was there, certainly had no idea what she thought she would see this time that she hadn't the last. Nevertheless, there she was, staring hopelessly at week old garbage. Twenty feet behind her two men had been murdered, and she had absolutely no leads. Just like she had absolutely no hope with Merle Dixon.<p>

She and Daryl were known to be hard heads - had iron in their skulls, but Merle...Merle's was laced with titanium. Wasn't a thing in heaven or hell that could get that asinine man to budge an inch. So to relieve her frustrations, here she was, making herself even more frustrated.

Eventually they'd let Merle leave. Daryl hadn't seemed all that happy about it, had gotten cagey, and disappeared. If he was going to run off to do God knew what, she wanted to at least pretend she was useful. So here she was, running her flashlight up and down an empty alley where two killers had been murdered months ago.

Or at least she thought it was empty - a shadow flashed on the back wall, and footsteps whispered over concrete. Her mouth went dry as she remembered the unseen eyes boring into her back the last time she'd been here. Hand inching towards the gun at her hip, she inched down the alley, heart in her throat.

Something rustled again, just out of sight, the hush of breathing from around the corner. Just a few more steps, her heart thudded out an erratic beat as she slid through the darkness - following the thin path flashlight provided. It was whatever laid just outside it's lines that worried her, that made the blood roar in her ears.

It hissed and Beth whirled around the corner, illuminating pale eyes, wild like some feral creature. The woman breathed heavily, pupils wide and dazed as she watched her with animalistic uncertainty. Beth's chest was heaving too, blinking in a daze as they stared at each other. She didn't dare take her eyes off the woman - the nervous snarl pulling at her lips, the dark track marks on grime streaked skin.

"Do you need any help?" Beth asked slowly, carefully, not daring to move an inch. Her thumb still grazed the butt of her gun, concealed under her jacket.

"No," the woman replied quickly, no amount of nervousness erasing her musical, Scottish lilt. Beth spared a glance at the alley behind her, a shanty of cardboard and tarps had been set up against an abandoned looking dumpster.

"Do you live here?" The woman didn't respond, just shifted her weight backwards ever so slightly. Beth took a shallow breath, "Do you have a name?" Once again she was met with silence. Fighting the urge to move, Beth tried again, "Have you been on the streets long?"

The woman's eyes shifted uneasily towards the only escape, the one Beth was blocking, "Three years."

"What about this alley," Beth kept her tone soft and soothing, though her heart was racing, "How long have you been here?"

"Six months." Beth glanced back towards the street, to the spot where her killers had been killed. It had only been since April.

"Do you remember April second?" Beth asked.

"Don't really count days anymore." The woman almost seemed to be shrinking in on herself, eyes bright in the flashlight's glow.

Beth nodded slowly, "Do you remember anything odd happening a few months back? Some men were here that night, up by the road?" The woman stiffened immediately, that animalistic glare lighting a fire in her nerves - suddenly she couldn't stay still. Beth watched her cautiously, waiting for a response. The woman was muttering something over, and over, and over, but she couldn't make out the words. "Did you seem them?"

The muttering got louder, "It weren't me, it weren't me, it weren't me."

"I understand that, ma'am, I just need you to answer a question -" For all her frailty, the Scottish woman was surprisingly quick. Nails raked down the side of her face, and fingers dug into her neck. Beth gasped in pain, yanking the pair of them to ground - hoping to pull the advantage, and maybe a pair of handcuffs. Instead she got a knee to the ribs, and the air was forced from her lungs as the woman clambered over her, slamming her booted foot hard into Beth's cheek bone as she tore down the alley.

The world rang like a bell, and spun round and round - she just laid there for a moment trying to regain her breath and her senses. So far it wasn't working out too good.

The woman's footsteps had long since faded away, but Beth was going to find her, she had to. She was the only lead she had….but first she had to figure out if she could get up.

* * *

><p>Merle ignored him, bent over as he loudly rummaged around in the fridge for a beer that they both knew was sitting in the door. Daryl did his best to hold back a groan as he sat at the rickety table in the middle of Merle's kitchen. His brother made decent money running drugs, but he stayed in his trailer all the same - too lazy to get his money laundered, too paranoid to risk a run in with the IRS. Anyways, all that glitz and glam wasn't exactly how Dixon's worked. They weren't fancy folk.<p>

They were stubborn, and set in their ways, and that was the most aggravating thing about them. Even if you were one. Daryl ran his face through his hands - it was late, and he was tired, and he just wanted to crawl into the bed in the room across from Beth's and fall asleep.

He wasn't going to do that though, cause he owed it to a little girl that her father would never come back for her. Lord knew he and Merle might've turned out decent if someone had been there to do that for them.

"You're wastin' electricity," Daryl commented, and Merle sighed, grabbing his beer and slamming the door.

"Them city slickers turnin' you into a tree hugger now too?" Merle smirked.

"Nah," Daryl grunted, "Just tired of lookin' at your ass."

Merle chuckled and took a swig, "Yeah, I bet I know whose ass you wish you were lookin' at."

"Don't you fucking start too," Daryl grumbled, too damn many people seemed to think he wanted in Beth's pants - that he was already very much in Beth's pants. He didn't need his brother on that list, at least the others would shut up about it if he gave them a dirty look. Merle would just laugh.

"I mean if you don' want her," Merle grinned slyly, and Daryl couldn't help the red heat that pooled in his chest.

"No," he said, ice in his voice.

His brother just laughed and leaned back, "Don't worry, baby brother, I won't steal your girly." Daryl decided not to tell him she had a boyfriend, he decided not to talk about Beth at all. As long as the conversation stayed anywhere near her and her big blue eyes, Merle was going to keep dancing around the reason Daryl had driven all the way out here.

"Merle, we need you for this case."

"You've needed me for a lot of things, Daryl. And most of the time I was lounging on a cell bed when you needed 'em - don't tell me your tryna' put me away now?" Merle never lost that goofy smile, though there was something serious in his eyes.

"It's different now," he said, eyes finding the wood grain of the table, "I can take care of myself better than you can."

Merle let out a short, barkish laugh, "So you're retiring me?" He seemed to think it was the silliest thing, breaking out into giggles.

"Ain't retiring you," Daryl rolled his eyes, "This ain't even 'bout me."

Merle quieted, watching Daryl for a long time, "Alright...then who's it 'bout?"

"Charlie Martin was five, Merle…" Daryl didn't think about the bodies he worked with all that often, tried to keep them nice and tucked away. They slipped back to him when he was sleeping, but he was used to it. It was only the childish little faces that really haunted him. He remembered the name of every kid who's case he'd worked: Charlie, Julio, Mary, Jack...Sophia.

Daryl found Merle's eyes, "You know damn well that could've been you or me." Merle didn't have a snarky response to that one, "Frank's still got two more kids, and they ain't lil'shits like we were - one of 'em's just a baby." Daryl let the heavy silence in the air speak for what might happen to the Martin children - he and his brother had felt it more times than they could remember.

* * *

><p>Now she understood the stiff gait that Daryl had walked with the other night - getting hit in the face hurt. Especially when you get thrown to the ground first. She could still feel the imprint of the woman's foot on her cheek, the ache radiating down into her jaw. Everything felt swollen, and the scratches that ran from beside her eye to her cheek stung. She decided it would be in her best interest to not look in the mirror for a few days.<p>

Throwing her Camry into park, she dragged herself from the car, and tottered her way up the drive. It was late, already past one, but there were still lights on down stairs. Maggie's room was dark...maybe she'd thought Beth wouldn't want to come home to a dark house. Fumbling with the keys, she finally managed to get inside.

All she wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

"Greene?" The gruff voice called from the living room, and she paused. She'd forgotten Daryl would be here.

"Hey," Beth said, leaving her stuff in the mudroom, and lingering in the hall. She grimaced into the mirror, preferring to see the damage for herself before she saw Dixon's reaction. The swelling felt worse than it looked, but the scratches were nasty, and there was an oblong bruise spreading down her cheek. With a deep breath she stepped into the living room, fully intending to dart into the kitchen, and not deal with Daryl.

She didn't though, 'cause Daryl was on his feet from the moment he saw her, brow furrowed, "The hell happened to you?" He breathed, closing the distance, and gently cupping her chin between his thumb and forefinger - eyes intent on the red marks down her face. His skin felt hot against hers, fingers moving up to trace her bruise.

"Kicked in the face," she said, lips twisting with dry humor.

He shook his head, "And how the fuck did you manage that?"

"Mentally unstable homeless woman from Scotland," Beth said, and there was a moment where she thought Daryl was going to ask. He seemed to think better of it, fingers brushing her throat as he let one hand fall, and brought the other up to her shoulder to pull her into the kitchen. She just tried to ignore the warm feeling that seeped through her chest.

"Daryl!" Beth protested, struggling to move under her own volition as he practically lifted her up onto one of the bar stools.

"You gotta first aid kit?" He asked, ignoring her.

"Downstairs bathroom, under the sink." He was gone for seconds, striding in, box already open as he searched through it. He placed himself in front of her, a step closer and he'd practically be straddling her lap. She breathed in cedar as he unwrapped an alcohol wipe, and dabbed it along the scrapes the Scottish woman's nails had left. She did her best not to hiss, though she jerked back on reflex, and a warm hand moved to cradle her cheek.

"Dixon I'm fine," she said, trying to pull back before she drowned in the scent of wood chips. His hand was like a wall, holding her firmly in place as he cleaned out her cuts.

There was something gentle about Daryl, which was odd - she'd seen him beat armed murderer's to the ground before - but under Detective Dixon, under surly redneck Daryl, there was something sweet in him. She could see that now, in the softness in his eyes as he scanned over her face - looking for more cuts and bruises - she could see what Carol must have seen.

Beth did her best not to let her lips fall into a frown, he'd been through about as much shit as Maggie in the past few months. The way everyone had talked about him and Carol, they were best friends - as good as family...coming in and finding her and her daughter like that. She briefly wondered if he'd cried, it was weird trying to picture Daryl Dixon cry.

His thumb traced over the bruises on her cheek again, and the sensation dripped straight down into her lungs, forcing air to fill the sudden hollow in her chest.

"Remind me not to let you run off on your own anymore," Daryl said, a hint of a smile on his lips as he dropped the wipe into the trash, and stepped back. The smell of him lingered as he crossed to the freezer, pulling out a few ice cubes, and grabbing a paper towel. Had his shoulders always been so broad? She shook her head, chocking it up to the tank top he'd put on for pajamas.

Still, her eyes followed him around the kitchen as he threw together the makeshift ice pack.

"Thanks," she murmured, letting him drop it into her hands.

"You wanna talk about the crazy hobo, or you just gonna leave that hanging?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as she held the ice up to her cheek.

She shook her head, smiling, "I just wanna go to bed...sleepy. You wanna hear it over coffee tomorrow?" She asked, he nodded, watching her with warmth in his eyes. Slipping down from the bar stool she winced, getting slammed to the ground had left her sore. She had barely made it a few steps out of the kitchen, when suddenly she'd been spun around, and the ground disappeared from under her feet.

"Daryl!" She laughed, as he draped her over his shoulder, and started for the stairs, "Daryl put me down!"

"Too slow, Greene," he teased, strong arms holding her body against his; one hand wrapped around her calf, the other splayed across her lower back. She gave up, going limp, and letting her cheek rest on his back. She was tired and aching, but Daryl was warm, and the lulling motion of his stride was making her eyes droop.

He kicked open her door, and she giggled as he dropped her to the bed. Smiling in the dark she looked up at him, "G'night, Daryl."

"G'night, Beth," he said, voice low and gravelly. He didn't leave as she crawled under the blankets, and fell into the pillows, making sure she was all settled before he left. It wasn't until he'd closed the door that it occurred to her, that that was the first time she could remember him using her first name.

* * *

><p>She looked like a little bird perched up on the witness' stand, blonde hair pulled back, and makeup covering the worst of her bruises. It was a stroke of luck that she got her face kicked in the night before the trial. Daryl shook his head, bruises and all she still looked pretty, and innocent, and not at all like someone who spent her time catching murderers.<p>

"And Detective Greene," Andrea had her lawyer voice on, strong and commanding as she paced up and down the courtroom, "You were at the crime scene, were you not?"

"Yes, yes I was," Beth said, not a hint of nerves in her voice.

"And would you mind telling the jury what exactly you saw there that day?"

Beth took a deep breath, glancing at the men and women in the jury box, "My partner and I were called after the police had checked in on a domestic disturbance report. Layla and Charlie Martin were still in the kitchen." Just for a moment that pale look crossed her face, he knew how she felt, "They'd both been shot in the head, Layla's body had fallen over her son's, as if she'd knelt to hold him after he'd -"

"Objection!" Martin's lawyer called out, "Superfluous details."

"Sustained." The judge hit his gavel, and Daryl rolled his eyes. He let his gaze wander from Beth over to the defendant's side of the courtroom. Frank Martin looked nervous, face washed with an unhealthy pallor, and his eyes ringed with dark circles. He knew he wasn't going to win this one - Daryl glanced anxiously back at the door - didn't even have a chance if a certain someone bothered to show up.

"Continue, Detective Greene," Andrea prompted her.

"Layla's face was freshly bruised," Beth started, "There were blood spatters on the floor, the cabinets under the sink...but everything above the counter was clean."

"Can you clarify what that means?" Andrea asked.

"She was beaten before she died," Beth said, the fire in her eyes burning with a cold intensity as it reached her tongue, "Her son was killed in front of her, and then she was shot from above - executed…" Her eyes found Martin's, and he quickly ducked his head, "She was never even given a chance."

Witnesses came and went, the hours dragged on, and still no sign of Merle. He and Beth sat next to each other on the front bench, her body pressed against his. He wasn't going to admit it to anyone, but he was nervous - every minute that Merle didn't show was another minute that Martin could walk - having her close, for whatever odd reason, it kept him from needing to bounce his knees every damn moment.

Dawn was up now, testifying to her past experiences with Martin. He'd almost completely given up, when he heard the door softly creak open, and he glanced back. He almost smiled, Merle had bothered to put on something that didn't have holes in it. His big brother smirked when their eyes met, and gave him a little two-fingered salute. Daryl just nodded in response.

"Is that all, Ms. Harrison?" The judge asked Andrea. Her mouth opened to speak, but her eyes briefly flicked towards him, and she hesitated. He shook his head, nodding towards the back where Merle still stood.

Andrea's eyes lit up, and Beth glanced back, looking even more astonished than him as she saw who it was.

"I have one more witness to call to the stand," Andrea said, gesturing towards the back of the room, "Merle Dixon."

His big brother looked resigned to his fate, walking, all of his own will, up to the stand to condemn himself.

* * *

><p>The bailiffs had put the handcuffs on Martin in the end, but as the room emptied, they'd put them on Merle too. He and Beth stood outside the courtroom, listening to idle chatter echo off marble walls, and waited for him to be lead out. It was a relief, knowing that Martin was going to be put away - stay away. He'd been given sixty to life after the charges from two murders, drugs, illegal firearms, and armed assault of an officer had been added up.<p>

The door opened, and he and Beth both straightened. Daryl nodded to the officers following behind Merle, and they let him go - still handcuffed - to say goodbye. Merle smiled, one of the things he'd noticed over the years, Merle almost never stopped smiling. You'd think that would be a good thing till he grinned at you with fury of hell in his eyes. Right now though - Daryl couldn't quite pinpoint what was behind the smirk Merle was giving him.

"Well I did it, didn't I?" Merle said, not sounding particularly happy about it as he glared down at his cuffs, "Make you happy, sweetheart?" Merle's gaze found Beth, and she nodded.

"Thank you, Merle," Beth was smiling, the scratches down her face crinkling painfully, but she looked damn happy.

"This one likes you," Merle said, nodding to Daryl, "You take care of him for me now, darling, you hear?" Merle sent him a shit eating grin, "Darylina ain't ever been too good by himself, nightmares you know - don't sleep too good alone."

Daryl glared hard, he could slap Merle round the head if he weren't in the middle of a courthouse. He got on just fine by himself...he wasn't lying about the nightmares, but he wasn't a damn kid who needed to be coddled. Dreams were just dreams. Beth laughed, not bothered at all by Merle's slightly suggestive comments. He was pretty sure she was too damned pleased with the case to be disgusted by Merle.

"Don't worry, Merle. I've got a good handle on him," she said, leaning over to bump into Daryl. He couldn't help the soft smile as he looked down at her, and her blue eyes, and the brilliant little grin on her face. He couldn't help but blanche when he saw the knowing smile on Merle's lips.

The bailiff coughed, glancing at the clock, "I think that's my cue," Merle said, taking a step back. This wasn't a new situation, it'd been played out time and time again, though normally Merle hadn't needed any of Daryl's encouragement to get himself thrown into jail. "I'll be seeing you baby brother, sweetheart." He nodded to each of them. Daryl just nodded back, they didn't need a chick-flick moment - they were brothers.

He and Beth stood and watched as Merle followed behind the officers, "Ready to go home?" She asked, looking up at him.

That soft smile touched his lips again, "Yeah."

"Hey!" Merle's harsh twang called out, and they both jumped up, "Daryl! You take care of her for me, you hear?" With that, he disappeared around the corner.

"Who's he talking about?" Beth asked.

"I need your help with something," Daryl said, letting his hand find the small of her back, and turning her towards the door.

* * *

><p>They'd only been driving ten minutes, it wasn't late, but it had been a long day, and Beth was starting to doze off. She just leaned back, and let the roar of the truck engine lull her to sleep. She didn't know how long she'd been out, but eventually Daryl's voice broke through.<p>

"Greene," he said, shaking her awake, "Rise and shine."

She moaned, squinching her eyes together - it was dark, "Where are we?"

"Merle's place," he said, unbuckling his seat belt, and she did the same, "You know how to drive a stick?"

"I grew up on a farm, Daryl," she shot him a sleepy smile as he hopped out, "I can drive a stick." She hopped out after him, brain a little too groggy to really wonder what was going on, though she was confused.

He handed her the keys, and patted her on the shoulder as he jogged off, "I'll be right back."

Beth waited quietly, trying to make out what she could of Merle's place. It looked like a trailer, it's silhouette dark against the dusky sky. There was junk lying around - the shadows of rusted out car bodies hunkered on the ground. He didn't have neighbors, just trees, and an overgrown field.

It was quiet out in the country, quieter than Atlanta, far quiet than New York. Just the sound of summer crickets and a rare breeze whispering through the grass. She was almost starting to grow sleepier when a loud roar made her jump, a single headlight cut through the darkness as Daryl rolled up on a vintage bike.

"This is she?" Beth asked over the rumbled of the engine.

He nodded, "Merle's baby, I take care of her whenever he gets locked up."

"You got a helmet?" She asked.

"No," he said matter of factly, and she rolled her eyes. Exactly what she expected from him - just that little bit of redneck carelessness.

"Don't crash, Dixon," she said, climbing into the drivers side.

"Don't fuck up my truck, Greene," he shot back, and revved the engine, taking off down the drive. She struggled to get the truck on before he'd completely disappeared, she didn't even know where they were - much less how to get back to Atlanta.

* * *

><p>Daryl had refused to let her go alone this time. Instead he'd managed to rummage an old helmet out of his closet, plunked it on top of her head, and stuck her on the back of Merle's bike. Motorcycles weren't the horrifying monsters her father had made them out to be, nestled up against Daryl's back she was actually very comfortable.<p>

She was sure it would've been less than comfortable in work clothes - but a pair of jeans was just fine. The ride was shorter than she would've liked, she was a bit sleepy from the mac and cheese in her belly (Daryl was a surprisingly good cook), and her head fit comfortably between his shoulders.

Eventually the rumble of the engine beneath her began to quiet, and then cut out completely as they came to a stop next to the sidewalk. She swung off first, Daryl following after as they hopped up onto the curb.

"Well this is it," she said, gesturing to the alley in front of them.

"Don't look like much," he said, looking over the entrance. She couldn't help but agree as she flicked on her flashlight, and cautiously lead them down the little strip of asphalt between the Walgreens and the Laundromat. He was sticking oddly close, his scent filling each breath as his bare arms brushed up against hers.

The woman wasn't lurking about this time, if she was there she was being quieter than before.

"Hello?" Beth called out, voice bouncing off concrete walls, "Hello?"

Something shifted, back towards the shanty next to the dumpster, and she felt Daryl stiffen. His chest brushed against her shoulder as she waited for a response, and for a second he thought his hand was about to close around her arm and pull her back as the shadows stirred.

"Hello," the woman said, blinking in the harsh light. She looked nervous, abashed almost. She recognized her.

"How are you?" Beth asked, not moving any closer, though she did push Daryl off a bit. For a guy who normally seemed a bit of a loner, he had very quickly lost all meaning of personal space.

"I'm okay."

Beth started to search through her bag, and the woman's eyes widened, body stiffening, "I brought you something," Beth said, holding out a tin foil wrapped sandwich. The woman took it hesitantly, "Do you have a name?" Beth asked.

"Violet." She picked nervously at the tinfoil, though she didn't open it. It was quiet for a long time, Daryl didn't butt in - she was grateful for that, Violet didn't need his aggressive demeanor right now. "I didn't do it."

"I know that," Beth said, "We have surveillance tapes - whoever did this was a man." The woman nodded, avoiding eye contact, "Do you know who it was?" Beth asked.

She nodded again, and she and Daryl waited breathlessly, waiting till she realized they expected a response, "I don't know his name."

"Does he come here often?" Beth asked, her heart was pounding. It wasn't fear this time, she was on a hunt, and she was getting close. She knew how Daryl felt when he had his crossbow out in the woods, when he could see his quarry through the trees.

"Yes," Violet said.

"Do you speak with him?"

"No," she trailed off, "I hide."

"He killed two men here a couple months back," Beth said, glancing back towards the entrance where they'd died, "He dragged the bodies back here, do you know where he might've taken them?"

Violet didn't say anything, just started walking towards the back of the blind alley she lived in. Beth met Daryl's gaze, questioning. He seemed to be thinking, but he nodded, giving her the slightest nudge forward. It turned out that the blind alley wasn't quite so blind - built into a tall brick wall, was a gate.

The Scottish woman stopped, and turned to face them, "Through here, to the left...you won't miss it."

Daryl didn't seem to like the idea of letting Violet out of their sights, but Beth didn't want to risk upsetting the girl's already imbalanced mood. So she took his hand, and pulled him along before he could protest. It was dark back here, the abandoned courtyard of an old factory that no one had set foot in (legally) for the past forty years.

Violet was right - they weren't hard to miss. Five plots of upturned dirt - some were obviously older than the others, only signified by the slightest rise in the topography. Two were distinctly fresher. She took in a shaky breath, not letting go of Daryl's hand. For just a moment the world was incredibly quiet, and then something crashed in the factory behind them.

He reacted instantly, hand tightening around hers as he tugged her back through the gate, and dragged her to the bike. They couldn't know who was in that factory, but she didn't like the thought of risking it with nothing more than two pistols and a dark alley.

He tossed her his cell phone as he hopped on the bike, "Call Grimes, then we go."

**Oh my gosh this took so long to write haha. I hope you all enjoy it! I'm pretty tired, so I'm not gonna put too much effort into the author's note. I'll save my energy for editing so I can post this damn thing. **

**I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to hear back from you! **

**See ya soon!**


	5. Graves

**Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter, like y'alls reviews keep me going, I get so excited every time I see a new one. Like every last one of you is great, and I love you all so much. **

**Special shoutout to my friend SirensCalling (captaindixons on tumblr, y'all should go follow her if you don't already. Also go read her stories, Rock-a-By makes me squeal - like it's so fucking cute you don't even know) for giving me the most amazing idea, it tied up that one little plot gap that I didn't even know I had. So, thank you darling, for that and all of your support in everything you wonderful lady.**

**We're at the halfway point now, chapter five! I need to start getting more solidified plans down for the stories I'm doing after this one. Like even Around the Rosie which I've already started I only have like 12% of an idea on what I'm doing with it. There definitely will be a sequel for By a Thread, I already know what its called and have a basic idea of the overarching plot, but I'm going to wait to write a few other stories before I come back to it. **

**Anyways, I'll stop rambling. I hope y'all enjoy and I can't wait to hear back from you! **

**Episode Five - Graves **

Daryl was struggling not to let out a heavy sigh as he glanced up at the clock. That damn hand was ticking by at a snail's pace. There were only fifteen more minutes, but at this rate fifteen minutes might as well be fifteen years. He wasn't even sure why he was here - well he knew _why _he just sure as hell didn't see why it was necessary. He was fine.

"And -"

Daryl cut him off immediately, "I swear to god, if you say 'and how does that make you feel' I'll be off my ass, and out that door faster than you can spit."

Dale, as far as Daryl had seen, was a very patient man, but Daryl knew he was starting to test that. He was too aggravated to care. This was what? The third time he'd been to see Dr. Horvath since April? He didn't think it was helping him, the Doc said that that was cause Daryl didn't want to be helped.

Daryl thought that was bullshit, he didn't like having nightmares more than any reasonable person. He sure as hell didn't like seeing her face every night... He shook his head, didn't like thinking about it when he was awake either. Still, he thought all this psychology mumbo-jumbo was a crock of shit.

Glaring at the clock again, he tried even harder not to sigh.

"Daryl, I need you to be cooperative here," Dale said, gripping his pen a little harder than he needed to.

"Didn't wanna be here in the first place," Daryl grumbled.

"Well Rick thought it was important." Dale sighed, shifting in his chair.

Daryl scoffed, "We both damn well know that this was Lori's doing." Dale actually laughed at that, because Daryl was right. Rick knew this wasn't how he operated, but Lori would've kept pushing. She had that whole mom thing going on after all, and she wasn't scared to let it transcend the Carl boundary - she was like the resident mother for the whole damn homicide department.

Horvath shook his head, "It doesn't matter who sent you here, Daryl. You're here now, and I think we both know you need to talk about this."

"I don't."

"Daryl, it's a very difficult thing losing a partner," Dale said, voice so kind that it was making his teeth itch, "And with how close you two were - all of you were...this has to be weighing heavily on you."

Daryl didn't like thinking about Carol, he didn't like thinking about her or her sweet little daughter, or the holes that son of a bitch had put in them. He could feel his chest tightening, and he contorted his face into a grumpy scowl so it couldn't do anything worse of its own accord, "I'm fine," he said shortly.

Dale took in a deep breath, "Alright," he conceded, setting his pen down and leaning back, "You're fine now. How about that night?" Daryl tensed, "How did you feel then?" Daryl's jaw tightened and he looked away, he wasn't going to answer that question. He closed his eyes just for a moment, trying not to remember the way that little girl's red handprints trailed over the cupboard - they'd looked too much like the finger paintings he'd done with her years before.

Carol had been lucky, bullet to the brain. Sophia went slow, bullet to the belly.

It was quiet for a long time as Dale waited for a response he was never going to get. So after what felt like ages of tenuous silence, he tried again, "What about before? What were things like with Carol before?"

"Good," Daryl said gruffly, not meeting Dale's eyes.

"Just good?" Dale pried, and Daryl did his best not to walk out of the room. Lori'd hear about it, and next thing he'd know she'd be at his doorstep with that 'I expected better of you' look on her face.

"You and everybody in this fucking building knew what the Peletiers meant to me," Daryl growled, "You don't need me to spell it for you."

"This isn't about me, Daryl, this is about you," Dale said, and it took all of Daryl's strength to keep himself glued to that dumb little leather couch, "So why don't you just say it aloud?"

Daryl's mouth twitched, "She was my best friend."

"Do you miss her?"

"Course I fuckin do," Daryl snapped, glaring at him.

"Daryl, you don't have any feelings of guilt, do you?" Dale asked, and he'd never get a response to that question either, cause Daryl's phone started ringing. Dale looked like he was about to protest, but he picked it up anyways. He didn't get the luxury of ignoring phone calls, though right now it was more like a blessing than anything else.

"Dixon," he answered it easily, leaning back against the couch as Dale frowned. They both knew very well that Daryl was going to make his great escape ten minutes earlier than he was supposed to. Didn't matter a bit to him, he wasn't even paying for this shit.

"Dixon, it's Stookey." Daryl had been waiting for this call for a while, they had a lot of murders to solve - five to be exact - and he'd been itching to start hunting their killer down, "Get Greene, and get your asses down here. Got something for you."

"See you in twenty," Daryl said, ending the call and jumping up, "Gotta go." He didn't wait to hear Dale's response, just strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Daryl had wanted to take the bike, she had straight up refused - she was wearing a skirt, and it wasn't long enough, or loose enough for her legs to comfortably hike up like that. So instead she'd crammed him into the passengers seat of her little beige Camry, and ignored his undignified look as he buckled into a vehicle that didn't scream redneck.<p>

Now he was just a guy in a suit in a car, and wasn't that just a tragedy? She smirked as she pulled out of the space next to his, as he forlornly watched his bike disappear from view. He loved that bike, and to be honest she liked it too, he'd only had it a few days but for every two times he rode she was on the back at least once.

Didn't change the fact that she probably shouldn't be pressing her bare crotch against his ass during work hours.

"So, what's Stookey got for us?" She asked, taking the first of the three turns they had to make to get to the morgue. Honestly they could walk if they wanted to.

"Don't know, he didn't say," Daryl said, looking out the window.

"Well I guess we'll find out won't we?" She took the next turn, tapping her fingers impatiently as they hit a little traffic snarl, "Have you talked to Merle at all?"

"Yeah - he's taken to terrifying his new cell mate," Daryl laughed quietly, a smile pulling at his lips. Beth couldn't help but smile too. He had a nice smile - not that she was going to tell him that, if she did she wouldn't catch another one for days.

"And who would that be?" Beth asked.

"Randall." Daryl bit his lip as he looked at her, that grin reaching up to his eyes.

Beth laughed, "Good, maybe Merle'll knock some sense into him."

"Know he will." Daryl shook his head, "Tough son of a bitch, my brother, every time he gets locked up he ends up running half the place in a week."

"Well give me an update in a couple days then will ya?" She said as they pulled into the morgue's parking lot, "I want details on Randall." She had to admit she didn't hate Merle. She'd only met him a couple times, and he'd been either aggravating beyond belief, a vulgar ass, or both. There was something about him though, maybe it was just cause she'd seen him around his little brother, that wasn't utterly detestable.

She'd probably be seeing a lot more of him once he was out...she and Daryl were partners after all. She frowned, putting the car into park, Merle wouldn't be out for two years. Two weeks ago she would've said she'd be back in New York two years from now. Her eyes found Daryl as he slammed his door shut.

"C'mon, Greene. Lets go see what the geeks want."

It wasn't a long walk down into the morgue, but it was hot out, and she was almost looking forward to the cool, dank air of a body filled basement. Relishing the AC she followed Daryl into the elevator, and let him push the down button, leaning against the chilly metal walls. She was tired - they'd had a long night trying to sort out the body dump, and in the end Daryl had taken her back to his place so she could get a decent two hours sleep.

She hadn't had clothes with her (much less ones that would work for riding a bike) so he'd let her borrow a pair of sweats and a shirt. They'd shown up for work an hour and a half early so they could sneak her up to the locker room, and into her normal clothes before anyone noticed. The secretary had given them a funny look - Daryl in his suit, and Beth in his pajamas with wet hair plastered around her face - right now she was just hoping that rumors of them hooking up wouldn't spread.

Not that everyone didn't think that already. She'd seen the looks she kept getting every time she stood just a bit too close to Daryl in the breakroom. Or that one time she'd made the awful mistake of fixing his tie for him (Martinez still wouldn't let that go). Honestly, she was just surprised they hadn't been reported - sad thing was, they weren't even fucking.

He was just Daryl.

She glanced at him and his bright blue eyes, just visible through shaggy brown hair, and blamed the light feeling in her stomach on the elevator. She wasn't going to let it be because of his ridiculously broad shoulders, or the biceps she sometimes found herself hoping to see when she stayed at his place. He was just Dixon, her partner, that was all it was ever going to be. She had a boyfriend back in New York, a boyfriend she loved very very much, and had been with for a very very long time.

He was just Daryl, and it didn't matter that her skin felt like it was on fire when he touched her... she needed to stop thinking like this. It was going to lead her to bad place, such a very very bad place.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and she thankfully strode out into the hallway, leaving behind the overwhelming scent of cedar.

Five bodies were laid out on tables, all in various states of disrepair. At the farther end they were almost completely skeletonized, nothing left but bits of drying flesh. The ones closest to her - two men, one short, one tall - were the closest to looking like people. Rotted, and grinning with permanently bared teeth. They weren't exactly disgusting anymore, but they hadn't been in the ground long enough to get rid of the lingering stench.

She was used to it by now.

"Stookey!" Daryl called into the empty lab. No response. They waited awkwardly for a while, listening for the sound of footsteps, or someone tinkering with instruments. Apparently they had the morgue to themselves. Daryl shook his head with an annoyed growl, "Leave it to these idiots! Tell me to hurry, and they ain't even fucking here." He braced his hands against the desk by the wall, impatiently watching the door into the back of the lab. Beth sighed going to lean on the desk next to him.

"I'm sure they'll show up eventually," Beth patted his hand reassuringly, and surprised herself by leaving it there. Distinctly aware of the feel of his skin under hers, she glanced up. He was watching her, something in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. Instead of trying to think about it, she ducked her head against his shoulder, and settled in to wait however long Stookey decided to keep them.

He seemed oddly stiff at first, but after a few minutes the lack of things to do and the lack of sleep seemed to get to him. He leaned back into her, his weight warm against her side as his head fell to rest on hers. Her eyes felt heavier and heavier as the minutes wore on, and she let out a little sigh, ignoring the dead bodies and nestling closer to her partner. They'd been deprived of sleep the past few days cause of these five corpses, they might as well catch up on it now.

"If they're so set on maintaining the facade of platonic partnership," Porter's voice cut through the previously peaceful moment, "You'd think they wouldn't stand in such close proximity."

She'd expected Daryl to jump away, but he didn't. Instead he just straightened up, and fixed Eugene with a frightening glare. She straightened too, lifting her head from his shoulder. Mamet and Porter were watching them from the doorway with curious stares. Porter had been getting braver around Daryl recently, the withering looks didn't seem to have quite the same effect.

Mamet shook his head, "Don't be rude, Porter."

"I was just making an observation," Porter defended himself as the pair walked into the room.

"That doesn't mean you're supposed to comment on it," Mamet scolded him as they put on rubber gloves. Beth and Daryl just watched with awkward tension, "I observe your atrocious haircut, but that doesn't mean I say anything to you."

Beth's brows raised a mile high as she looked up to Daryl. He looked like he was about to bust out laughing - insinuations concerning their relationship damned to hell as they tried to contain their amusement. She had no idea what was up between the two of them, but it seemed even more like a lover's spat than one of her and Daryl's arguments.

They'd been glaring at each other over the table for what felt like ages when Eugene spat back, "T. Brooks Ellis, director of the Human Genome Project, and master scientist, loves my hair."

Milton let out a derisive laugh, "You've never been within a hundred yards of T. Brooks Ellis, and everyone knows it."

Eugene looked deeply offended, Milton looked pleased with himself, and Daryl looked like he couldn't tell if he was even supposed to be annoyed with these two anymore as he snorted back a laugh, "Alright whiz kids, let's get the panties out of our ass cracks, and down to the front side of Porter's hair." Daryl clapped his hands, stepping forward, and everyone in the room fell silent to stare at him.

Porter and Mamet's argument completely forgotten as Daryl started to shift uncomfortably. If the others hadn't been so surprised, they might've started laughing - Beth, for one, was still trying to process it.

"That joke might've been worse than the mullet itself," Mamet said with a tired sort of disgust.

Daryl awkwardly glanced back at her, and she just shook her head. Trying to push down the smile that was pulling at her lips. It really was an awful joke. Stepping forward to the first table, she gave Dixon a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, and looked to Mamet.

"So, Stookey said y'all had had something for us?" Beth glanced down at the first body, the tall one from the drive by shooting.

"Where is he anyways?" Daryl asked, coming to stand next to her. She couldn't help but smile at the faint traces of a blush that were still painted across his cheeks.

"His wife, Sasha, just went into labor," Milton stated, looking nervously down at the bodies. Beth frowned, Mamet practically lived with corpses, why'd he suddenly grow an aversion to these ones? He looked over his glasses at Beth, "To answer your original question, we've found identities for the drive by shooters."

Porter scoffed, "No thanks to you." So that's why the two of them were in such a mood.

Beth raised a brow, and Milton's lips pursed as he focused his gaze on the bodies, "I've made some mistakes."

"More like fucked up three days worth of work in one fell swoop!"

"It was an accident," Mamet said tightly, not making eye contact.

"Hey!" Daryl snapped, catching their attention. Apparently he'd decided to drop the jokester demeanor, "That three day wait ain't getting any shorter with you two bickerin, now what you got on 'em?"

Milton sighed, and Eugene glared at him, deciding to take the floor for himself, "Their names are Pete," he gestured to the tall one, "And Mitch Dolgen," he gestured to the shorter one, "Brothers from down in Alabama. Reported missing by their mother ten weeks ago."

"She know what kinda shit they were gettin' up to?" Daryl asked.

"My best guess would be no." Milton bit his lip, staring at Pete with a softly furrowed brow.

"Did you find anything else on the bodies?" Beth asked, frowning at the brothers' boney smiles.

"There was some trace DNA that we believe was the killer's," Eugene stated bitterly, fixing Milton with another dirty look, "But someone proved to be incompetent. Again." Beth glanced at Milton who didn't look the least bit happy. Beth shook her head, the whole morgue felt awkward today from the elevator to the lab itself - she would be more than happy to get out of there.

"Well we'll take those names," she said, fingers brushing over Daryl's arm, gesturing for him to follow, "Find out what we can." The two scientists nodded, and she and her partner started to walk off, "Call when you get anything on the other three!"

* * *

><p>They didn't talk on the way back. Instead Beth turned on the radio, and started singing. Daryl was more than happy to just lean back in his seat and listen. She had a beautiful voice. He didn't know the song, but he didn't particularly care, it was nice just to hear her sing. Relaxing. Damn did he need it too, they'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep that night, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to his apartment and take a nap.<p>

He couldn't do that though - he had murders to solve...five of them.

So he took what little rest he could get, dreading the moment that Beth would park the car in the APD deck, and he'd have to open his eyes and walk all the way up to his office again. Honestly, if anything, her singing was making him even more tired. He blew out air in a silent laugh, maybe he should start keeping her around more - he didn't always sleep so easy.

It didn't feel like it had been long enough when the car came to a stop, he frowned, it was too bright for them to be in the parking deck. The car was still running, but she wasn't singing anymore.

"Thought I'd let you out at the door," Beth said, and he blearily opened his eyes as she laughed, "I don't think it's safe for you to walk across the street right now." He almost protested, but the looseness in his muscles made him rethink it. Instead he muttered his thanks, and stumbled out of the car.

He'd get a headstart on those names, figure out where they lived, where they worked, their friends. He'd need to get in contact with the family, let them know what had happened. Daryl had absolutely no idea what kind of fucked up shit this body dump was, but he had a horrible feeling it was gonna get messy before it was over.

Beth drove off, and he headed into the office - the cool air perking him up just a bit. The elevator doors were closing behind him when his phone started to ring. Maybe it would be Mamet with i.d's on the other bodies - though with him and Porter bickering like old women, and Stookey at the hospital with Sasha, he didn't think much was actually getting done. His brow furrowed when he checked the screen, it was Andrea. Why the hell would she be calling, they didn't have anything going to trial soon.

"What's up?" He asked, stomach flipping as the elevator soared upwards.

"Dixon," Andrea started, voice grave, "I've got some bad news."

Daryl bit his lip, "Bout what?"

"Ed Peletier." Daryl's jaw tightened, lips pulling into a ferocious scowl. He didn't know if he wanted to hear what came next. Swallowing hard, he waited, "I don't know how he managed it...he...Dixon, I'm sorry - They shortened his sentence. He's up for parole in five to ten years on good behavi-" Daryl didn't let her finish, just hung up the phone, and absentmindedly stared at his warped reflection in the elevator door. Ed was gonna walk - Sophia would've been seventeen in five years, looking at colleges, going to parties. She had her whole life ahead of her, but while she was dead in the ground her piece of shit father was going to walk.

He could feel his throat tighten, and he swallowed hard, trying to control the fire that was dripping from his chest into a clenched fist. That bastard was supposed to rot in hell, not get a slap on the wrist. It took everything in him not to roar, and yell, and throw his fist into the wall; instead he let out a low, strained growl and leaned his forehead against the cool metal. He threw himself a glare, his reflection glaring right back with light-twisted blue eyes.

The elevator let out an all too cheerful ding, and he let out a heavy breath. Doing his best to keep the anger to the twitch in his jaw - instead of unearned insults, and harsh glares - he stalked out of the elevator, didn't make eye contact with a damn person, and slammed his office door behind him.

* * *

><p>Daryl's door had been closed when Beth got up to her office. It was odd, these days they usually kept their doors open. When they heard someone passing by say something particularly weird, they'd raise their heads and make eye contact. Or when they were just tired, or bored, or one of them was getting a particularly aggravating phone call. It was nice just having him there.<p>

It was weird, not being able to see him - like someone had put a big wall up between them. Though she guessed doors were a little bit like walls. Whatever his reasons were she figured she ought to respect them, but she had to admit she was disappointed. She'd made paper airplanes this morning with plans to try and land one on his desk.

Instead she'd just tried to find out everything she could about the Dolgen brothers. Which wasn't much other than an astonishing amount of marijuana paraphernalia on their facebook pages. Anything of use to the case must not have been all that public - they were going to need to get ahold of their computers before they could make much headway in the case.

At eleven o'clock, she'd given up, given a worried glance to Daryl's still closed door, and headed home.

Unlike her currently Hermit-esque partner, her sister was the picture of happiness when Beth got home. Maggie had had her ups and downs over the past few months, but today something was different - there was a lightness to her as she hummed over a pot of mac and cheese. A lightness Beth hadn't seen since last Christmas when Maggie and Glenn were kissing under the mistletoe Patricia had strategically hung in the living room's threshold.

"What's up with you today?" Beth asked, plopping her purse down on the counter, and jumping up onto one of the bar stools.

"Just happy," Maggie said, a broad smile showing white teeth as she spun around and dumped half the pot into a bowl for Beth.

"Got a reason for being so happy?" Beth smiled too, it was nice seeing her sister like this again.

"There's news in Glenn's case!" Maggie slid onto the stool next to her, plunging her own fork into the delicious cheesy pasta, "They know who it is!"

Beth tried not to let her face fall, she would've heard this morning if they were charging anyone, "Oh really?" She kept her voice cheerful, not wanting to destroy a rare moment, "I didn't hear anything about that."

"I got the call from Detective Everett this afternoon," Maggie said through a full mouth, and then swallowed, "They've put out a warrant for the arrest of Tomas Aziza," she said his name like she'd learnt to recite it, "Apparently he wouldn't come in when called for questioning. He's like some sort of assassin for cartels…" she trailed off a bit, mouth twisting, "guess that makes sense."

It did make sense, but Beth couldn't help the sinking feeling in her gut that it made too much sense. She still remembered her conversation with Daryl the night they'd arrested Frank Martin, she remembered what he'd said. If this were a cartel they would've owned up to it a long time ago, the people who'd actually done it far out of their reach in Mexico somewhere. This was something else...something big.

She couldn't say that though, not when Maggie was smiling without Glenn's ghost weighing on her lips. It was a smile fueled on false hope, but it was a smile nonetheless. Beth didn't have the heart to break it.

So instead she plastered on her biggest grin and said, "Oh my god Maggie that's wonderful! We should go out! Celebrate, have an early pizza night."

Maggie looked up, and snatched the mac and cheese from Beth's hands, running to throw the bowls into the fridge, "C'mon!" She was practically bouncing, "Let's go, we can get a New York White, split a ceasar salad!" Beth couldn't help the softer, more sincere smile. New York White, Glenn's favorite.

* * *

><p>Karen was ecstatic when Beth finally made her way down to the tech department. She always got like this when she had something good, something really good. Though she supposed they were all like that, like hounds who'd just caught the first whiff of the fox. Karen waved her over and opened up the laptop, one of the Dolgen brothers'.<p>

"You aren't going to believe what I just found!" Karen said, tapping out furiously on the keyboard, "He tried to delete the emails...but...I pulled them back just for you," Karen grinned turning the screen over so Beth could see. Her mouth dropped as her eyes scanned over the words...this was starting to push it out of the ballpark.

There were tons of them. All detailing payment drops, places to meet, a few with direct orders for some minor illicit activities. A lot of it - as with the Dolgen's facebook pages - had to do with drugs. The one thing that really got her though, was who all the emails were from.

"I have to take this to Rick," Beth said, still staring wide eyed at the laptop, "Can you print this for me?"

"On it," Karen said, and Beth took a shaky breath. This was big.

Ten minutes later she was knocking on Rick's office, a stack of papers clutched to her chest as she waited for him to invite her in. It didn't take long before she was standing in front of his desk, holding out the emails.

"I think you need to look at this," Beth said, and Rick's brow furrowed as he quickly swallowed a bite of homemade ham sandwich. He took the papers off her hands, eyes scrutinizing as he leafed through sheet after sheet in breathless silence.

"I'm going to need to call Ford," Rick said, setting the papers down, and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah this one was going to be a hassle...and she was fully aware of just how big of an understatement that was. She wasn't at all surprised to hear that APD's chief would have to be brought in, "Thank you for this, Beth," Rick said with a tired sigh as he gestured to the emails.

Beth shook her head, "Thank Karen, she's the one who found them."

Rick smiled, "Well I'll make sure to do that."

Beth left with a dull sense of anxiety deep in her gut, this was big, and they hadn't even uncovered the half of it. There were still three unidentified bodies, and now with this development...she had no idea what she was getting herself into. She sighed, suddenly feeling tired enough to indulge in break room coffee. Between this and Maggie's faith in Glenn's case being solved...Beth didn't even know where to start.

So she went to the one person she trusted to have a damn clue as to what he was doing. Daryl's door was still closed, but she didn't bother knocking - he never knocked when he came in, so she wasn't exactly expecting the icy glare he sent her. She decided not to think anything of it, her partner was nothing if not temperamental.

"Hey," she said a bit shakily, still feeling just a bit overwhelmed. He didn't say anything back, just watched her with tired looking eyes and a glower. Her lips tightened, she didn't know what was up with him, but lord knew she'd never get him to talk if he didn't want to. "Got some news from Karen." She didn't expect a response this time, and she didn't wait for one, "We found out who the Dolgen brothers were working for."

He still didn't say a thing, but his posture shifted as his expression changed from quiet anger to quiet interest.

"It's Tate Hogan."

That got Daryl talking, "The Secretary of State?" Beth nodded, "Shit."

* * *

><p>It was a smothering day - heavy Georgia humidity laid down on top of searing heat. After hours of agitatedly staring at his laptop, he'd decided it was time to take a break. He'd shed his suit for something more comfortable, just jeans and a cut off flannel, and driven forty minutes out of the city to a quiet little church yard.<p>

He wandered through the older headstones, not paying attention to the names or weathered dates. He kept on going till the graves turned shiny and new, a few still standing over freshly turned earth.

Carol and Sophia shared one headstone. Carol's mother had picked it out, he vaguely remembered her asking him for an opinion on it, but he'd probably just been rude. He hadn't seen the point, it was just a rock. He wanted Carol and Sophia back, he couldn't give a shit whether they were laid out beneath a stone angel or a plain wooden cross - dead was dead, and he was never going to see them again.

He let out a heavy breath, sitting cross legged in front of them. He had to admit, Carol's mother had done a good job with their grave. It was beautiful, all pretty words and engraved flourishes. A dove flew beneath their names, olive branch in beak. Carol would've liked it.

He hadn't had time to grab flowers, though the slightly wilted ones from last time were still there. Cherokee Roses, her favorite.

He never really talked when he came to visit them, just sat and...he didn't really know what he did, or why he came. Just thought he should, Carol had always known what to do, how to get him to calm down - even back when he was just redneck trash with a temper shorter than one of those Tasmanian Devils. She couldn't talk to him anymore, but he thought maybe just being around her might make things...clearer.

He tried to keep the rage from building up in his gut again, Carol would've wanted him to retain some semblance of calm, but it was hard. He could still see them, their smiling faces and family dinners, he could see that brilliant grin on Carol's face when the divorce papers finally came through (ten years separated from that bastard and she finally got to cut the last ties). Most of all now, as much as he hated it, he remembered unseeing eyes and a lot of blood.

Everything was so fucked up now...that bastard was going to walk, Merle was in jail, somehow he'd gotten tied up in a case involving one of the state's top politicians, and then the cherry on top...Beth. Persistent, sunshiny, always singing and smiling, Beth. Who for some god damned reason he couldn't pick out of his brain, even when he wanted to be thinking about anything else.

He dug his hands in to the grass over Carol's grave, he was just so fucking confused. She would've known what to do, what to say, how to get that blinding, useless anger to let go. Instead it was working deep into his gut, and his mind, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He was useless saving them, he was useless giving them justice, he was just...he growled, ripping the grass up at its roots and chucking it off the side.

He didn't even know why he was here.

* * *

><p>Beth was surprised she and Daryl had gotten to keep the case, especially when things had proven to be so high profile. Yet here they were, sat across from Tate Hogan and his lawyer. To her satisfaction, Daryl's less than stellar attitude was proving to be the best weapon in their arsenal. His cold stares, and unwavering scowl had the already nervous looking politician downright spooked.<p>

She'd be surprised if he hadn't lost what little hair he had left by the time the interrogation was done.

Right to the point, Daryl flipped open the binder - complete with every email Hogan had sent to the Dolgan brothers - and slid it across the table, "Would you like to speak to your relationship with the Dolgan brothers, Mr. Hogan, or would you like to leave us to jump to our own conclusions."

Hogan looked like he was about to speak, when his weasley looking attorney cut him off, "Don't answer that." His voice was sharp and nasally, and he took on Daryl's stoney glare with surprising nerve before pulling over the binder for a closer look, "I don't see any evidence that my client was the author or recipient of any of these emails," he said, closing the binder with an air of finality.

"It's encrypted and routed through a proxy, but I can ensure you we have a more than capable technology department," Beth said, keeping her voice clipped and professional, knowing full well that she could never reach the same level of burning intensity in Daryl's eyes right now. "We have indisputable proof that the anonymous sender is, indeed, Tate Hogan."

"What kind of charges are you filing?" The attorney asked.

"We?" Beth glanced at Daryl, "We aren't filing anything, now I'm sure someone else will be in contact with you later on," she sent a pointed glance at Mr. Hogan, "We're from the homicide department."

"I -" Tate Hogan started indignantly, but his attorney quickly interrupted him again.

"My client is not a murderer!"

"Never said he was...directly," drawled Daryl, "but we got some questions…" he paused, taking time to reposition himself, sitting up a bit straighter, "Pete and Mitch Dolgan were murdered on April second, three hours after committing a drive by shooting that you," he tapped the binder, "set them up for. We need to know who you're working with, who you're working for, who could've wanted the Dolgans dead."

His demands were met with silence, and a nervous glance from Hogan to his attorney.

The rest of their time went on much like that, questions met with sharp coughs and orders not to answer. The longer the silence persisted the more fury seemed to build in the back of Daryl's eyes, the sharper his movements, the harsher his twang. He was getting frustrated, she could tell, and still they were getting nowhere.

"I thought this was a murder investigation, not a trial on long past corruption charges," The attorney said calmly in the face of Daryl's snapping temper.

"Don't see why he would be dealing with drug runners if corruption weren't part of the problem," Daryl pointed out, "And Hogie here's got a lot of'em under his belt. What was it back in O'six when you had your thumb so far up your ass you could hardly walk?"

She nudged him with her foot, raising her eyebrows. He was letting his temper get the best of him, and before they knew it they were going to go from raging intensity to desperate grabbing. His harsh glare rounded on her, just for a second, and she did her best not to flinch.

"Both he and Governor O'Brien were cleared of those allegations!"

Daryl scoffed at that, "You're a lawyer," Daryl's voice almost sounded joking, his Merle was showing, "You and I both know that don't mean shit."

"Dixon!" She snapped, and he almost seemed surprised as he turned to look at her, "Can we have a moment." She nodded towards the door. He stood, begrudgingly, and fixed Tate Hogan with a hard stare before stalking out of the room, Beth on his heels.

"What the hell was that?" They both snapped at the same time, her gaze more concerned whereas his was furious.

"You can't act like that! This is an official investigation, Daryl!" She was getting exasperated, that door he'd put between them was starting to be an obstacle instead of just a barrier. She'd let him have all the privacy in the world, but whatever was eating at him couldn't affect his work. She'd put too much into this case for him to ruin it with his foul temper and fouler mouth.

"An' how the hell would ya know that?" He growled.

"Cause it's just common sense!" She punctuated each word with a sharp downward jerk of her hands.

"It's my case," he said, voice low.

"No! No, Dixon, it's _our_ case! _Ours_! We're partners!" And then, finally getting more than a bit fed up, "If it's anyones case it's mine!" She hissed, and he almost seemed surprised as she got up in his face, "I'm the one who dug through hours of footage, I'm the one who wandered around Atlanta at night, I'm the one who found us the bodies, and I'm the one Karen called with news about this fucking bastard!" She jabbed a finger at the closed door, "Not you! You've just been sulking in your office!"

Something in his eyes went dark as he stared down at her, and she could've sworn she heard him growl. She almost wanted to backtrack, get out of his personal space, or at least so that she couldn't feel his barely controlled breaths against her skin.

"You wanna say that again?" His voice was low and cold, his lip starting to curl.

"You've been sulking, Daryl!" She snapped, "And only the Good Lord knows why, cause even though we're supposed to be partners you never tell me shit!"

His breath was shallow as he looked at her, blue eyes on fire. "Cause you don't know me!" He yelled, and she finally broke, flinching back, "You don't know me, and you don't get to know shit about me! We work together! That's it, you got it?" The volume began to soften, but his tone remained just as violent, "I don't need you, or your pity, or you god damn scoldin' - I need you to shut up, and let me do my fucking job."

He sent her one last dirty look, and stalked back towards the door. She grabbed his hand before he could close his fist around the handle, "I'm not letting you go in there like this," she said, meeting his eyes.

His lip curled, but he backed off, "Fine, you wanna do it on your own? Do it on your own. See if your rookie ass can figure it out."

As she watched him disappear down the hall, she couldn't shake the feeling she wanted to cry. So she took her own advice - she wouldn't be worth shit in there like this. Storming down the hall, and up to the desk, she politely told an intern to go inform Hogan they were done with him. The moment the young girl was gone, Beth was too, quickly ducking into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

It was almost a subconscious reaction, calling Amy. For all she knew she could be working and wouldn't pick up, she did have a job after all. It rang, and rang, and rang, and she knew that Amy probably had her hands jammed in some kid's mouth. She almost thought she should call Zach, but decided against it, shoving her phone back into her purse.

Instead she tried to hold back the tears so she wouldn't look like she'd been crying when she saw Daryl again, and leaned into the cool metal of the bathroom stall. It was moments like these that she missed New York, that she missed going to the bar with her friends, and sleepy Sunday mornings with Zach, and that peaceful time before some psychopath had hung her life from a rope right alongside her brother in law.

In Atlanta she didn't have friends to go out with, she had Daryl. A whole city, and all she had was a crass, temperamental, redneck for a friend - she didn't know what was up with him, but she knew he hadn't meant it. He said a lot of shit he didn't mean when he was angry.

Still...it hurt.

* * *

><p>Beth took him to his word, and didn't bother him the rest of the day. Not when she thought she had something, not when she was so frustrated that she wanted to tear her hair out, not when she was so tired that she wanted to curl up on a couch that smelled like cedar, not even when she got a call from Mamet. Stookey usually called Daryl first, only going over to her when he wasn't picking up. But Stookey wasn't there, and Beth was a bit less intimidating than her partner, so luckily she'd gotten the call.<p>

She was going to go insane if she stayed in that damn office staring at Daryl's closed door any longer.

She didn't think Milton and Eugene were going to be much better company, but at least they were busier yelling at eachother than yelling at her. A basement full of dead bodies didn't seem like a much better place to be hanging out, but at least those dead bodies would give her something to do. The smell hadn't gone away, but Dr. Porter had - she was kind of thankful, he was the least pleasant to deal with of the pathologists.

Apparently, according to Mamet, Eugene had gotten fed up with Milton (and a few choice comments concerning the mullet) and decided to take off early. Stookey was still with his wife and child, so today it was just her and Mamet staring at five dead bodies.

Five dead bodies who all had names now.

"John O'Connell, Stacy Mayer, and Marissa Compton," Milton listed off in order of most recent death to oldest, "A drug runner, a secretary, and a watchdog for a prominent anti-corruption group respectively. No outstanding connections that I could find - the closest thing was that Stacy worked in the Capitol building, and Marissa had a focus in rooting out politicians, but...I doubt they ever would have had contact."

"Since when did you start doing investigations?" Beth teased, nudging him. Normally they just pulled names and let her and Daryl do most of the non-body related work.

"I've had a lot of time to myself," Milton said somewhat bitterly as he snapped on his gloves and walked around to John O'Connell's skull.

"Yeah...me too." Beth followed him around the table, watching intently as he twisted the bone around to show her the neat little hole in the back.

"With the exception of the Dolgen brothers, all three of the victims were shot execution style, from behind - the fragmenting of the left portion of the parietal, and lack of exit wound," He turned O'Connell's skull around to show her the front, "points towards a low powered gun at close range."

"The killer wasn't expecting a struggle," Beth said, looking at the other skeletons laid out on their own metal beds.

"Exactly," Milton said, moving around to O'Connell's side, "If you look here," he pointed to his wrist, "You'll see fracturing consistent with the victims having their hands tied for an extended period of time." There was something odd in his eyes, sadness? Disgust? She couldn't figure it out, he spent all his time around dead people, far grosser dead people than these.

"Can you get an exact time of death on them?" She asked.

"I can try, I'll probably be able to make a pretty accurate estimate." Milton nodded, pulling his gloves off.

"Thank you," Beth said, trailing off into awkward silence. She could probably leave now, but she really didn't want to, "So what's been up with you and Porter?" She asked.

Milton let out a quiet sigh, "He's just frustrated with me...I haven't exactly been working to my full potential on this case, it's just been -"

"Difficult?"

"Complicated," Milton said, and she raised a concerned brow.

"You wanna talk about it?" She asked. She liked Milton, he was awkward, and seemed to like science far more than socializing, but he was nice. Whereas Porter was a self-centered creep, Milton could actually hold a decent conversation.

"I've just been stressed…" He held out a long, contemplative pause, "I took on a second job, they don't, they don't really mix all that well."

"Weird hours?"

"You could say that," Milton said, frowning, "At least you've got it good, huh? You and Dixon certainly seem close."

Beth's lips twisted into a little frown, "Sometimes…"

"Ah, you've seen the wrath of the redneck?" Milton asked with a wry little smile, and she couldn't help but laugh. It must have been contagious cause pretty soon they were both cracking up over the bones of a dead man.

"You could say that."

* * *

><p>She'd flinched. Just a little jerk back, but he kept seeing it again and again. Beth Greene the girl made of steel and patience...he'd scared her. He shook his head, not even sure who he was pissed at anymore, but himself was usually a good answer.<p>

Didn't change the burning itch under his skin, or the reflexive clench of his fist, or the way the words on the page kept slipping out of his head. He couldn't just sit here like this, not with Beth sitting on the other side of the hall, or Ed smugly sitting in his fucking cell. The pencil in his hand cracked sharply as the wood broke.

He needed to get out.

Years ago he would've taken his crossbow, a bottle of vodka, and a pack of cigarettes out into the woods for a hunt. He'd track for a while, clear his head, maybe kill something, and at the end of the day drink himself blind out on a tree stump somewhere. He couldn't do that anymore though - respectable man in a monkey suit had a job, and an apartment that was almost an hour away from any decent woods.

He had to do something though. So he got off his ass, made sure not to look at Beth's closed office door, and left the building as quickly as he could.

A few minutes later he was on his bike, with no real plan for where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there. As the sun began to set, and the light became dusky, he wasn't all the surprised at where he'd ended up. Of all the shit on his mind there was only one thing he could do anything about, and that was his job.

The alley was already heavily shadowed when Daryl stepped in. He didn't know why he was there, the bodies were gone - all back at the lab - and even that woman, Violet, didn't seem to be around. Slipping through the gate and into the abandoned factory yard he found himself completely alone, still, and with absolutely nothing to do...still.

Glaring at empty graves and ripped caution tape he could have screamed, but he didn't. Instead something else roared. It was rough and screeching, like something heavy and metal, maybe a door or a dumpster, being dragged across concrete - and it was coming from inside the factory.

He wasn't as alone as he thought he was.

He drew his gun, with no real plan for what he was about to do, and stalked towards the dark building. There were no open doors, but a busted out window was easy enough to slip through. Glass tinkled under his feet as he landed, gun up and pointed into the shadows. It hadn't been bright outside, but here it was dark. He didn't have a flashlight, but as far as he was concerned he didn't need one.

Better that whoever was in here didn't know he was coming.

It was deathly quiet in those halls, dank and wet and covered in debris. Everything smelled of mildew and rats, and what little light there was was filtered through grime streaked glass. It was so quiet that he almost thought he must've imagined the noise, but then he heard it again, harsh and echoing on bare concrete.

Light on his feet he took off, gun at ready as he followed the ominous creaks and the sound of something being dragged over dirt coated floors. He was getting close.

Darting down halls and through doors that had been knocked off their hinges, he only slid to a stop when something thudded to the ground in the next room. There wasn't a lot of light, but Daryl could see enough to make out two shapes in the dark. A man standing, and something else at his feet. Something too close to body shaped for his comfort.

Right then he knew, he had their man.

"Alright, jackass." Maybe he had to keep his filter on around fancy politicians, but he was more than free to run his mouth at the psychopaths who did the killing, whether Beth wanted him to or not, "Hands up." He advanced slowly, the guy didn't seem to have expected him, but he dealt with surprises well - fluidly drawing his own gun.

Daryl couldn't see his face, he was masked, but even in the dim light there was a harsh glint in his eyes. A wrong one, the kind he saw in Merle when he was on a bad trip, the kind he'd seen in his father on a bad night. This guy wasn't afraid to pull the trigger. Maybe Daryl had that look in his eye too, cause he wasn't either.

It had been a long, shitty couple of days. All that frustration and fire, every fucking word he'd been waiting to scream at Beth, at Ed, at Rick, at anyone who would hear him, was starting to creep from his chest into his arms, his legs, his fingers and toes and teeth. The man took a step, so did he. Round a bagged body they stalked, and spat, silently staring with dangerous eyes.

"I said hands up," Daryl growled.

"My hands are up," he waggled his pistol ever so slightly, "Jackass." He couldn't see the other man's mouth, but he was damn certain he was smirking. The fucking bastard. He took the moment while he could though, some horrible mix between his own temper and the realization that there wasn't a bullet pointed straight at his chest.

He did something that if Beth were there, she would've called him stupid for.

Without so much as a yell, he lunged forward. They hit the floor as the pain tore through his chest, hot and searing. It was blinding, and he could barely react as the man shoved him to the ground. It took all of his strength to pull up his gun and fire, trembling arms sent the bullet into the wall, but the resonating bang was enough to put the man on the run as Daryl fired another and another.

The angry metal roar came again, and Daryl groaned into the silence, struggling to find his breath. His shirt felt wet, and he could feel himself breaking out into cold sweats. He wanted to do damage control, but it was too dark to see, and everytime he tried to pull off his suit jacket hot knives shot up from his chest into his neck.

Dragging himself up to sit against a concrete pillar with a good view of the body, he let out a shaky breath, and reached for his phone.

* * *

><p>"Beth!" The knock on her office door was sharp, and the voice surprised her. Not because of its tone, harsh and impatient as it came again, "Beth!" but because of who it was. Rick. Brow furrowed she jumped up, opening the door to see panic thinly veiled on his face.<p>

"Grimes?" She asked, breath still in her chest.

"I just got a call from Daryl, c'mon we need to go." He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out into the hall, apparently planning to explain on the way.

"Has there been a development in the case?" She asked, feeling desperately confused.

"He's been shot," Rick said, and her heart stopped. He'd been what? Rick dragged her into the elevator and punched the down button as she tried to process what she'd just heard.

"Is he okay?" He had to be okay. He was Daryl Dixon, she didn't think anything could take him down. The world could end tomorrow and he'd be the last man standing.

"I've called an ambulance."

"Is he okay?!" She snapped, breath coming short. She had one friend in this whole damn city, one. He was grumpy, and aggravating, and sometimes he could be downright mean...but he was her friend. She couldn't bear to lose anyone else so soon after Glenn. Not Daryl.

Rick took a deep breath, "I don't know...the phone cut out." He met her gaze, "He didn't sound too good, but it didn't sound like he was dying either. He was coherent."

Everything moved in a haze as they rushed through the lobby, out into the street, and to Rick's parking spot which was thankfully on the first floor. They tore out of the parking deck, the speedometer quickly pushing past the legal limit as Rick blew through a yellow light and dodged around a slow moving suburban. He was going to be alright she kept telling herself, he had to be alright. As much of a pain in the ass as Daryl Dixon could be, she didn't want anyone else to be her partner.

"How're you holding up?" Rick asked, as rubber squealed around the turn.

"The last thing we did was fight," Beth said shakily.

"Makes sense," Rick nodded, "He hasn't been doing well since he got the news."

"What news?" She looked at him, lips pulling into a frown. She still didn't know what had put Daryl in such an awful mood. No one had bothered to tell her, and Daryl had made certain not to.

"Carol's ex-husband, Ed, he got his sentence shortened."

"Oh…" Beth trailed off, so that explained it. She knew Daryl hadn't been allowed to work the case, but from what she'd read of the reports he'd done his best to help where he could. He'd wanted Ed locked up for life. No wonder he'd been so angry recently.

"He's gonna be okay, Beth," Rick assured her.

"I know."

The ambulance's lights were already casting everything blue and red as they screeched to a stop in front of the old factory. They were out in seconds, doors slamming as they jogged over to the nearest EMT.

"Is he -?" Rick started, and the woman pointed off towards the factory.

"Last I heard they were trying to load him onto the gurney," she said, "something about him wanting to walk on his own." Beth blinked, that utter moron. She brushed past Rick, stalking up into that factory. The whole way over she'd been racking her brain, trying to figure out exactly how he'd managed to get himself an extra hole. Now she knew.

That stubborn bastard.

She stalked past police, and EMTs, and set her gaze on the shirtless man they were hauling up into the gurney as he spat half hearted curses and threw glares. The bandages they'd wrapped around his shoulder were stained dark red with blood, his chest hair slick with it. He looked pale, and tired, and for some reason she felt entirely pissed with him right now.

"What the hell were you thinking?" She snapped. He almost looked surprised that she was there. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say, but she just kept on going, "You could be dead you know that? What if you hadn't gotten to your phone, you know where you'd be?"

"Greene," he tried to cut in.

"You'd be bleeding out on the goddamn floor!" The EMTs didn't seem all that surprised as she continued her tirade, keeping in stride with the rolling gurney. Apparently he'd been just enough of himself for them to think he needed it, "Why on earth would you come in here alone? Why would you come in here in the first place -"

"Thought I heard something."

"Oh you heard something?! You heard something, so you walk in blind with nothing to cover your ass but a pistol and your own dumb luck!" He'd almost gotten himself killed to satisfy his boiling temper and his manly fucking pride, hadn't he? He'd scared the living daylights out of her, and Rick and - was that a body bag? "Daryl…did you…"

"No. The bastard got away," Daryl said, grumpily staring at anything that wasn't her, "That's the body I caught him trying ta hide." He sounded tired, and his words were slurring a bit. Must've been the blood loss.

"Why didn't you bring me?" She asked. She knew why, but it still hurt that he'd rather walk alone into a potential death trap than give her a fucking call.

"Didn't know I was coming here." He shrugged, wincing as he did.

"Then why didn't you wait?" She asked, temper filtering its way back into her voice.

"Cause he would've been gone," he snapped right back as they pulled him up into the ambulance, Beth moving to follow. "No!" He said suddenly, "No, you ain't coming!"

"Daryl!" She said indignantly.

"Rick!" Daryl called, "Rick, c'mon!" Grimes awkwardly looked between her and his friend, gave her an apologetic smile, and climbed up to sit next to Daryl as the door closed and the ambulance pulled away.

It was then that she realized that Rick still had his keys, unless she learned how to hotwire a car in the next ten minutes, she was hosed. Desperately glancing around at the cops on the scene she realized that most of them were too busy cataloging evidence to give her a ride anywhere, all of them except for Gorman - and that just wasn't happening.

With a reluctant sigh she pulled out her cell, and dialed Maggie's number.

* * *

><p>Pizza night was one Hawaiian and one Roma, they couldn't compromise for some reason, so they'd just broken down and gotten two. They'd took out the wine. Maggie drank because she was still giddy over the news in Glenn's case. Beth drank because she was hoping to forget the dubious news in Glenn's case, amongst many, many other things.<p>

She still hadn't had the heart to tell her she thought that Aziza wasn't likely, he had too much history working for the cartels. If they'd been behind it Glenn would have been strung up with a neon sign, they weren't exactly subtle. Michonne and Rosita were chasing the wrong guy, and Beth didn't have it in her to tell Maggie, or the position to tell her co-workers. So here she was, drinking Glenn, and Daryl, and five unconnected bodies away as she stuffed her face with pineapple covered pizza.

At least Maggie was happy.

"So, how was work?" Beth asked, mouth full of cheese.

"Boring," Maggie said, "Gisele keeps trying for a promotion we all know she isn't qualified for, Laurence continues to be creepy...Jeff brought a cake though."

"Birthday?"

"Nope, just really likes cake." Beth laughed at that, the warmth of the wine spreading slowly through her veins. She wasn't drunk enough to forget, but she was getting to the point where she just might stop caring. She sighed contentedly, taking another sip as the news droned on in the background, and Maggie grabbed her third slice.

"Hey," Maggie caught her attention, "Aren't you working this case?"

Beth glanced up to the television, it was a live broadcast from in front of the capitol building. Governor Philip O'Brien was speaking, looking dignified as always. Her eyes flicked down to the caption below his podium, he was talking about Hogan. She smirked, good, that bastard deserved a shit storm.

"These allegations come as a shock to all of us, but I can promise you, here and now, that they will be treated with the utmost seriousness," The Governor said gravely, "We won't stand for corruption, or this sort of criminal activity in our own government."

"Governor O'Brien!" A journalist called from somewhere behind the camera, "Can you say anything concerning the three other bodies found with the Dolgan brothers."

"APD's finest are working on it as we speak -" O'Brien said, and Maggie nudged her ribs.

"You hear that? APD's finest," she said, breaking out in a huge grin that Beth couldn't help but to match. That's right, best the APD had to offer. Sure, half of the finest was currently laid up in the hospital, and so temperamental that he was impossible to work with. But she was getting her shit done.

"At the moment," Governor O'Brien continued, "from what I'm told the connections between the victims are...loose at best, but we'll be working with the APD every step of the way to find out who's behind these tragic killings."

She took a big gulp of wine, they damn well better. Hogan had already proven to be difficult enough, the state of Atlanta owed her one.

* * *

><p>He'd managed to complain about everything from the nurse's perfume to the flavor of the pudding they'd given him (vanilla) before they finally let him out. He was pretty sure he was supposed to have stayed another few days, but he was getting restless, and they were getting tired of him. So trying not to itch at the stiff bandages under his shirt, he found himself waiting outside the hospital for the Grimes' van to pull up.<p>

"Daryl!" Lori called, leaning into her seatbelt so she could wave out the passenger's window, "C'mon!"

Hefting his bag over his good shoulder, and grimacing as his bad one twinged anyways, he jumped into the van and thanked god he was getting away from that damned place. He'd always hated hospitals, gave him the creeps. Lori waited till he had his seatbelt in place before putting the car in drive, and inching out of the parallel parking space.

"So," she began, "I got your word that you won't over do it for the next few days?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, though he hadn't decided whether or not he was lying.

"You're gonna need to rest, stay in bed, chicken soup." Lori smiled at him teasingly, and he rolled his eyes. Lori always got like this when someone was hurt. Martinez threw out his back a couple years ago trying to jump a fence following a murderer half his age. By the time he was up and about again, he said he'd gained ten pounds from all the chicken pot pie she was baking him.

"Of course, mom." He smirked at her, leaning back in his seat. Damn his shoulder hurt like a bitch. He tried to suppress his groan, knowing full well Lori would pull the car over and shove Advil down his throat.

"So Rick tells me you and Beth have been having some problems," Lori said nonchalantly, and he blinked. How the hell...She must've noticed his confused expression, "Apparently she mentioned something when they were going to meet the ambulance."

He scoffed, "More like she mentioned something when she got there," he grumbled, "Girl made sure I got my ass chewed out 'fore they even got me to the hospital."

"I think she was worried," Lori defended Beth, watching the cars ahead of them with a contemplative frown, "and for your information, I was talking about before you went and got yourself shot." Daryl stared out the window, lips tight, he'd rather not think about his and Beth's argument. He'd rather not think about Beth...he already had too much shit on his plate right now to be guilty over the hurt in her pretty blue eyes.

"We had an argument, ain't something to get your panties in a twist over."

Lori sighed, wringing her hands against the steering wheel, "She's a sweet girl, Daryl. A good person, and an even better one for putting up with you and your bad attitude." He glared at her, and she held up a defensive hand, "I'm just sayin', Daryl, don't push her away just cause you're angry at everything else."

"This ain't about Carol," he growled.

"I never said it was," she countered, though he damn well knew that's what she'd been implying, "I'm just saying I think Beth's good for you."

"Comment taken," he grunted, suddenly very happy that his turn was up next. He didn't want to think about Beth, or Carol, or anything. He wanted to get out of this damn car, wait till she was around the corner, and go hop in his truck and head to the office. Apparently Martinez and Tyreese had gone and picked up his bike for him, but even he was willing to admit his shoulder wasn't going to hold up to a motorcycle ride right now.

"Well, Daryl, try to get some rest, alright." Lori didn't bother putting the van into park, just held the brake.

"See ya," he muttered, not looking at her as he shut the door, and started walking like he was making to head back up to his apartment. The moment her car was out of sight he turned towards the parking deck, grabbed his keys, and was headed back to work.

* * *

><p>Beth looked surprised to see him as he stepped into his office, he thought about shutting the door, but he didn't get the chance - she was already on her feet. He was expecting another rant, for her to scold him for being reckless, for being up, for coming into work. He wasn't even sure if he would fight back, he was tired and he just wanted to be left alone to drown himself in this case.<p>

He was expecting fiery glares, and snapped remarks, instead he got Beth's professional voice - cool and calm - and somehow that was worse. "I found something."

With that she turned around, not waiting for him to follow, and walked back into her office. He didn't exactly have a choice, so he went after her. There was a clip of CCTV footage up on her laptop, girl must've been sick of the grainy, time-stamped streets by now. She'd spent a lot of time staring at them over the past few weeks. He squinted, looking closer, it was a view of the factory where he'd been shot - one of the side doors from the looks of it.

Glancing at the date down in the corner it wasn't just where he'd been shot, but the same night. Fifteen minutes before he would've gotten there.

Silently she hit play, and he watched as the numbers started ticking over a motionless screen. It took ages, and he was about to turn around and ask her why the hell she was wasting his time, when something down in the corner caught his eye.

He recognized him, his gait and the spread of his shoulders, though his face had been covered by a mask the last time he'd seen him. They had their guy, and the best part? He recognized the face anyways: Tomas Aziza. He glanced up at Beth and she nodded, she knew too. There were a lot of people who had been waiting to bag this bastard, and they'd gotten him.

He watched as Aziza strode into the old, dilapidated building like he owned the place. Beth fast forwarded, and he watched as Aziza came back out, disappearing out of the frame for a few minutes. Still had a little while before Daryl would've gone in. Aziza was back, masked, and dragging something. The body - they had video of him dragging the damn body.

It wasn't a sure thing he was the one to do the killing, but hiding bodies and shooting an officer was more than enough for some hefty jail time.

"It's not just this," Beth said, minimizing the window, and hitting play on the next video. It was time stamped to April second, in the dark hours of the morning - the night the Dolgan brothers had been killed. Aziza went in, she fast forwarded a few hours, a blood streaked Aziza came out. For some odd reason, she didn't sound so happy when she said, "We got him."

* * *

><p>Beth came into the house quietly, it was late, and she'd kind of been hoping that Maggie would have gone to bed by now. The light glowing through the windows had set the anxiety low in her belly, and now, listening to Maggie rattle around in the kitchen Beth could feel it sink its claws into her gut. She didn't want to say anything, but now lurking suspicions were solid facts.<p>

Tomas Aziza had nothing to do with Glenn's death...Maggie had been so happy.

She wasn't cooking this time, just scrounging through the fridge for a midnight snack. There was a box of cereal set out on the counter next to an empty bowl, in the background she could hear reruns of The Bachelor blaring on the TV. Maggie still hadn't noticed her as she jumped up, jug of milk in hand. She was already in her comfy pants, make up washed off, that comfortable smile still on her lips.

She didn't want to destroy this, but she didn't want to lie. Family first her daddy had always said, and the longer she let Maggie have false hope the more she was hurting her. She just had to find some nerve and get it out of the way.

"Maggie," she said, and her sister looked up, grinning.

"Hey, Bethy! I was just making some cereal, you want some?" She practically danced over to the cabinet to grab a clean bowl, "Was out at the store today, picked up the Special K with strawberries that you like so much."

"Maggie," Beth said again, and this time she picked up on the solemn tone in her little sister's voice. Oh God, Beth didn't want to do this. Maggie was watching her with a confused little frown, bowl still clutched in her hands, "Maggie, I've got some bad news."

"What?"

"It's about Glenn…" Maggie set the bowl down with a hollow thunk, "I uh...I had a development in my case, the body dump -"

"Spit it out," Maggie said, smile gone and replaced with a bitter frown. Four months of this had worn her patience very, very thin.

"Maggie, Tomas Aziza didn't kill Glenn."

"How on earth could you possibly know that?" Maggie asked, tone harsh and accusatory though Beth knew she hadn't done anything wrong. She was just telling the truth, it was going to come back to Maggie eventually, and it was best she heard it from family first - not some detective she barely knew.

"Cause he murdered the Dolgan brothers that night," Beth said, feeling a weight lift from her chest and sink into her stomach as Maggie's lip fought to stay still, "Maggie I'm -"

"That doesn't mean he couldn't have been here too!" Maggie looked desperate, her voice starting to crack,"That doesn't mean it wasn't him!"

Beth could feel her throat tightening too as the tears spilt over Maggie's bright green eyes, "I checked, Maggie, I checked again and again. The time frames don't match! I'm sorry!"

A choked sob broke its way from Maggie's throat, her fingers clutching at the empty space where the bowl had been, shoulders slumped as the tears began to fall in earnest. She looked so small.

"I'm so sorry," Beth's voice cracked as she threw her arms around her sister, and before she knew it she was crying too. She missed Glenn so much. He would've been down here in seconds, pulling out bowls of ice cream and suggesting a Friends marathon. Maggie would've gotten a back rub and a bubble bath, Beth would've found her favorite candy bar slipped under her bedroom door the next morning.

God she just missed him so much, and as Maggie let out another harsh sob, she knew her sister missed him even more.

"I'm just so tired, Beth."

* * *

><p>He'd been nursing a beer when he heard the knock at the door. Fully expecting to find Lori all set to fuss over him like an invalid (or maybe cuss him out if Rick had gone and told that he'd come into work today), but instead it was her. Blue eyes stared up at him, rimmed with red - he didn't even get time to ask what'd happened before she brushed past him, and into his apartment. No permission needed apparently.<p>

"I need a drink," she stated, voice sounding hoarse. He was caught between wondering who the hell she thought she was, and why the hell she'd been crying. Though most of him was just pissed. He didn't want to think about her or her problems, and the little tug in his chest when he saw her like this only made him more annoyed.

He was too tired to argue though.

"Beer's in the fridge," he grumbled, stalking back towards the couch.

He could hear the disdainful pout in her voice without looking at her, "I thought you'd have something stronger." He did his best not to roll his eyes, damn girl barged into his house, the best she could do was let him drink a fucking beer in peace. Jaw tight he spun around, strode past her, flung open the fridge and shoved a mason jar into her hands. He almost shut the door, but decided if he was going to have to put up with her and the damn smell of coconuts all night he was going to need one too.

"What's this?" She asked, frowning at it.

"Moonshine." He pushed past her and back into the living room, flopping onto the couch, "Merle usually keeps some in his trailer, went and picked it up the other day." He'd thought he'd need it when he heard about Ed, he'd been right. Gotten a massive hangover for his efforts, and he was sure he was about to get another.

She shrugged as she sat on the floor across from him, popped open the top, and took a long gulp. A hint of a smile traced his lips as her face twisted up, yeah, this shit burned on the way down. He threw back a drink too, letting the fire settle into a low burn in his belly.

She seemed to think it was worth it too, ignoring the acidic flavor for a heady stare and a cracked smile. They drank in silence for a long time, his eyes never leaving her as the alcohol got to her eyes, making the blue shine. He'd almost mistaken the annoyance burning in his gut for something else entirely, something that made his breath burn too when he looked at her lips.

"You'll never let yourself like me will you?"

What the hell did she mean by that? He narrowed his eyes and took a slow sip, "Huh?" The alcohol was making his brain too fuzzy to manage much more right now, he needed to think, as much as he didn't want to.

"I've been wracking my brain for days now," she trailed off, stumbling over her words, "...tryin ta...tryin ta figure out what was wrong with you -"

"Wrong with me?" His words scratched their way up from his throat as he sat forward, fire spreading to his limbs.

"You-"

"Ain't nothin' _wrong_ with me," he growled, sending her a drunken glare.

"You're doin' it again," she mumbled.

"Doin' what?" He could feel his temper starting to be pushed, the girl had had a habit of doing that lately. His lip curled as he watched her ever so slowly pick out her words in her head, she needed to just spit them the fuck out. His fist curled a little tighter around his mason jar, and he took another swig.

"You keep pushin' me away, Daryl." Huh, Lori had said that that afternoon. He hadn't wanted to listen then, and he didn't want to listen now.

"Ain't pushin' no one away, you weren't ever close enough in the first place." He stood up suddenly, stalking off towards the bedroom. She could crash on his couch for all he cared, but he wasn't going to put up with this shit, and he wasn't going to put up with her, or her infuriatingly blue eyes.

"Daryl you know damn well this is about Carol, not me!" He spun around, she was glaring up at him from her place on the floor, moonshine and spitfire.

"The hell you just say?"

"I said this is about Carol, and you know -" He stalked forward, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to her feet. She cried out in surprise as moonshine spilled to the floor, filling the room with the sharp scent of alcohol.

"The hell did you just say!?" He roared into her face, and she didn't flinch this time.

She ripped herself from his grasp, stumbling backwards as the words flowed freely, "I'm sayin' the only reason you're making this about me is cause I ain't her!"

"The hell do you know?" He growled, glaring at her as his breaths started to come short. He could feel himself breaking, the fire spilling over the hearth, "You know what?" He stalked towards her, accusatory finger outstretched, "You ain't her! You ain't a damn thing like her, just some girl they shoved into her place when they couldn't find anyone better."

"Daryl-" She started to protest, but he pushed on.

"You think I'm hung up? Huh? You think I'm irrational or some shit?" They'd been keeping the volume up pretty high, he was surprised his upstairs neighbors weren't banging on their floors about now, "She's dead! Yeah I fucking got it, I ain't some college educated bitch like you, but I ain't stupid! At least I didn't give up my whole damn life cause some idiot poked a bear and got hung!"

"I came here for my family!" She yelled back, and he was pretty sure the glassy look in her eyes wasn't just the alcohol now. Her voice was getting thick, and he swallowed as he felt his throat tightening too. "I came here for Maggie!"

He didn't want to cry in front of her, but he kept seeing Carol dragging him off to Sophia's ballet recitals. Family.

"Get out," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice level, "Get the hell out."

"No!" She snapped, storming towards him, "No! I won't let you keep doing this! I know you went through a lot of shit, and I'm sorry you had to see them like that, and I know you think it's your fault, but you can't just -"

What? Everything froze for just a second, and suddenly his hands were around her arms and he was shoving her up against the wall, "How do you know that?" He asked, stone in his voice. She hesitated. "How do you know that!?" He yelled, shaking her like a little bird in his hands.

"I read the file," her voice was weak, as he let her go, stumbling back.

"Oh!" He let out a hysteric laugh, "Oh, I get it! You're curious huh?" he stalked forward, and just as quickly turned back, not even sure where he wanted to be anymore. "You wanna know what I saw?" Her mouth opened to say something. "You wanna know what I fucking saw!?" He roared, something in his voice cracking.

"Daryl -"

"You know what it's like," he was struggling to speak around the iron lump in his throat, "To walk in, and see your best friend on the floor? Covered in blood? Her psycho ex-husband's bullet still in her head, her daughter bled out on the floor?! Do ya?" His voice hitched, and he could feel his eyes burning too, "Do ya know what the does to your fucking head?"

He couldn't let her see him cry. It wasn't in him. So he let the fire fizzle out, and turned his back on her just as his face twisted up. It took all his effort not to let his shoulders shake as he dug his fingers into the back of the couch. He expected silence; he expected to hear the door open and close, and her footsteps fade away; he expected her to leave.

He didn't expect arms to wrap around his waist, or her to hold him close. He didn't expect the quiet sobs that start to rip up through his chest.

"I should've known," the words were quiet and unsteady, "He'd been sendin' threats...I should've...I should've…" The tears were spilling over now, and he was just thankful she was behind him.

"It's not your fault, Daryl," she whispered, voice sounding almost as tight as his.

"I should've-"

"It's not your fault."

**Well, there you have it. I guess you could call that our Mid-Season Finale, but I won't break your hearts or make you wait two months for the next episode. Five more chapters to go. Thank you all so much for all the support, I hope you liked it, and I hope to hear back from you soon!**


	6. Dead Ends

**It's nine thirty four on a thursday night, just took an almost four hour nap, and lord knows I won't be able to sleep till two now. So instead of doing homework or something useful, I'm going to write. **

**I want to thank everyone so so much for the reviews I've been getting, and the messages both here and on tumblr I love talking to you all. We're passing the halfway point now, and while this chapter will be slightly on the fluffy side (slightly), but after we're going to have four more chapters for shit to go down. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and I can't wait to hear back from you!**

**Episode Six - Dead Ends **

Yet another violently loud sneeze echoed down the staircase, and Beth flinched. She'd been trying to get work done, a mountain of papers to be pushed about and signed, and her already flitting concentration was breaking one sneeze at a time. With a heavy sigh, she closed her laptop, capped her pen, and made the long climb up to Maggie's room.

"Hey," Beth said, knocking politely on an already open door. Maggie was wrapped up in a heavy comforter, shivering despite the burning summer heat. She didn't get a response, just a quiet grunt, though she hadn't expected much more. Maggie had managed to catch some sort of flu, but honestly Beth had been worried before that.

It was Sunday, her one 'day off', though normally she just ended up working anyways. Daryl had said she should get out of the house, get away from Maggie before he ended doing all the work while she hacked out a lung back home. He'd played it off all gruff, but she was pretty sure he'd actually been concerned. Things had been really good between the two of them recently...ever since the night they'd gotten drunk.

She couldn't say she remembered it all that clearly. There was screaming and yelling, and she remembered how Daryl shook in her arms for what felt like ages. That had been the hard part, hearing him cry. It had been hard, and the next morning had been weird, but two weeks later things were good.

Maggie, on the other hand, ever since that night had gotten worse.

Beth frowned, slipping into her room as quietly as she could, "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," Maggie groaned, burying her face in the pillow.

"I think there's gonna be a marathon of The Bachelor re-runs...we could watch it down on the couch, eat ice cream." Maggie shook her head, not looking up. Beth had been trying as hard as she could to get Maggie to do...well...anything. She'd never been the easiest to deal with sick, Beth blamed that on her dramatic tendencies and Hershel's habit of babying them at the slightest hint of a cold. However, a bad virus on top of everything else? Beth was just trying to remain patient.

She was tired though.

"Are you hungry?" No response, just a series of hacking coughs and a groan, "Do you want some chicken soup?"

"Yes, please," Maggie managed to croak out, before she started coughing again.

"I'll bring the Delsym too."

To be honest things had been kind of lonely around the house. Maggie usually kept to herself, and now that she was sick she stayed in her room more often than not. Beth was almost considering inviting Daryl over, he wasn't always the biggest talker, but just having someone else in the house would be a God send. She was almost certain he'd accept, his upstairs neighbor had gotten a new girlfriend, and apparently they liked to stay up late and tended to get very loud.

Maggie coughed from upstairs, and Beth sighed as she opened up the kitchen cupboard. They'd gone through a lot of chicken soup the past couple of days...she'd need to go to the store soon. She normally didn't have to do that, she was always so busy with work that Maggie did the basic errands. Now with her being sick Beth actually had to make sure she came home to check on her, had to swing by twenty four hour dollar stores to buy things on her way home.

Between taking care of her sister, and work Beth was lucky if she got more than an hour or two of sleep a night. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to feel the lack of sleep. The past few days had been rough, and more than anything else she missed the comfort of Daryl's couch, Daryl's couch that was a nice ten minutes from work. Daryl's couch where the only noise was him tossing and turning from time to time, instead of a cacophonous cough that always seemed to start just as she was about to fall asleep.

The microwave beeped and Beth pulled out the hot bowl, set it on a plate, and carefully started up the stairs. Her eyes never left the soup, as if glaring at it would scare it into not spilling over her fingers.

"I'm back," she said, stepping around discarded tissues and setting the soup on Maggie's bed side table.

"Gimme," Maggie whined, dragging herself up and reaching for the bowl with shaky hands. Beth quickly slid it back.

"Maggie you're gonna spill it on yourself," she scolded. Maggie was older by six years, but she'd always seemed so much younger when she was sick. It had been funny watching her and Glenn interact whenever she had a cold. They both ended up so frustrated that they just fell asleep in each other's arms after a couple days, too tired to even wake up for all of Maggie's sniffling.

"No I'm not," Maggie argued, and Beth rolled her eyes. She wasn't Glenn, and she didn't have the resolution to fight with her on this, she'd been awake far too long.

"Fine." Beth picked up the plate and set it in her sister's lap, careful that the bowl wouldn't tip over despite the burning annoyance, and handed her the spoon. "Remember to blow on each bite," she said tersely, "it's hot."

She was about to add something else, and it looked like Maggie had some thoughts she wanted to share too when her phone started buzzing. Impatience with her sister completely forgotten she fumbled in her pockets, she didn't even have to look at the screen to know who would be calling her at nine thirty. She didn't exactly have a lot of friends.

"Dixon?" She asked as she picked up, just a hint of a smile touching her lips. The thought of seeing him outweighed the tired feeling in her bones. She was very tired of being alone in this house.

"Greene." His voice was low and gravelly, he must've been sleeping. She wouldn't have blamed him, it was their day off...honestly she should've been sleeping too, "Get dressed, something good for walking, I'm coming to pick you up."

* * *

><p>She'd been out the door before he could even get off his bike. Had she been waiting for him? He shook his head, and tried to think about the case instead of how those clunky hiking boots made the rest of her look even more dainty than usual. They had a long ride ahead of them, and then a two mile hike through the dark woods to get to a pretty jacked up body if the reports were correct.<p>

He needed to be thinking about other things that weren't Beth Greene. It was hard though, especially with the dark rings around her eyes set sharply against skin that looked too pale. He frowned, she looked worse than she had the other day and even then that hadn't been good.

"Hey!" She grinned even though she looked like she'd gotten hit by a mactruck, and he shook his head. Girl was nothing if not stubborn.

"Here," he said gruffly, handing her his helmet. He could feel the all too familiar tingles spreading up his spine as her arms wrapped around him, and her cheek nestled between his shoulder blades - right over one of the thicker scars his father had left.

"Where're we going?" She asked.

"Crime scene," he muttered.

"Yeah, I got that part already, I asked where."

"Ways out in the woods, down by Sweetwater Creek. Some kids found her a couple hours ago." From what he'd heard the kids had already been questioned, they weren't suspects just delinquents looking for a quiet place to down some cheap vodka.

"Was she dumped in the creek?" She asked, arms tightening around him as she shifted in her seat, and he revved the engine.

"Nah, strung from a tree."

Conversation was cut off as the wind and the roar of the bike blocked everything else out. Now all there was was the thin strip of road cut out by his headlight, and the feel of her arms around him. For all the time they spent on the bike he thought he would've been used to it by now, but for all the times they repeated the motion, he couldn't get that night out of his head.

He still didn't understand it, he still didn't get why she would try and hold him together when he was falling apart. Though he'd never understood why Carol did it either, or Rick, or Lori. There was something different about Beth though, she was stubborn and headstrong and never listened to him worth a shit. The others would have respected his wishes in the end, let him alone.

He didn't think he could've gotten Beth to leave if he'd wanted her to, and as much as he wasn't going to admit it, it had been nice just to have her quietly stand behind him.

It had been nice just to have her.

He shook his head and tried to focus on the road, not her nose tracing over his back as she turned her head.

They had stood like that for a long time, until the tears had stopped falling, and he'd felt weak and tired. She'd offered to get some more moonshine, but he'd shook his head, stumbling off to bed and sleeping well for the first time in months. Sure the next morning he'd refused to make eye contact, but by that afternoon she'd slipped in through his office door and was resting her chin on his arm as they read over case files together.

Things were good.

He almost didn't want her to get off the bike when they finally rolled to a stop at a little campground parking lot. She did though, leaving his back feeling all too cold. He hopped off after her, and started fishing through the saddlebags to find the flashlight he knew he kept in there. It was dark as hell out here, and from the looks of it any campers had very quickly packed up at the first mention of murder.

He could see a few patrol cars, what looked like Stookey and The Geeks' van. He couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Mamet and Porter blundering through the woods. He almost wished he'd been there to watch it himself. Rick had said to call Dawn when they got there, she'd send out a couple officers to lead them to the body. However, he was feeling impatient, and he figured the faster they got this done with the faster they could get home.

He flicked on the light and nodded for her to follow, quickly picking up the trail of the thirteen or fourteen people who would have been out there. It wasn't exactly going to be difficult to find their way, didn't know why Rick insisted on a bunch of slow poke city officers hand holding him.

He shook his head, and glanced over at Beth. He couldn't see her so well in the dark, but he knew she was tired. Maggie had been sick, and he'd only heard the girl coughing once, but it sounded like a damn dinosaur was upstairs.

"You been sleepin okay?" He asked even though he knew the answer, he just figured telling her she looked tired might be taken bad. He'd said that to one of the girls Lori had set him up with, and he hadn't gotten a second date. Though to be fair, he hadn't gotten a second date in a long time. A few hookups followed by Lori badgering him for not calling the girl back, but no second dates.

"It's been fine," she said as he held a branch back for her.

He scoffed, "Yeah right, Greene. You've been gettin' what, two three hours a night?" She made a noncommittal noise, and he knew he was right. He wasn't sure if he was more amused by her and her sleepy smiles, or worried about the pallor in her skin. He didn't need her getting sick on him, "You been eating right?"

"I'm -" He was certain she was about to say 'fine' when her stomach growled, and he raised a brow.

"Course you are," he grumbled, silently ducking under a spider web. She wasn't so lucky, letting out a little yelp as she furiously tried to brush it off. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Hold still," he said softly, turning back and shining the flashlight over her.

"Spiders?" She asked, eyes squinched shut.

"Nah," he lied, brushing a little one off of her shoulder. Stepping in close, close enough to feel her breath at the base of his throat, he scanned over her hair letting his fingers trail past her ear as he pulled silvery cobwebs loose. His brow furrowed, he could've sworn she'd just shivered.

"You cold or something, Greene?" He asked, closing a hand around her arm. Her skin felt a bit warm.

"Yeah," she said quickly, pushing past him and on into the woods, "Just a little chill."

"You ain't gettin sick are ya?" He asked.

"No," she said, trudging through leaves and branches.

"You know where you're goin?" He called after her, and she stopped dead. He couldn't help the smirk on his lips as she turned around sheepishly and slunk back.

"No," she muttered, not looking at him.

"C'mon, Greene." He took her by the arm and pulled her off in the direction of the trail.

It was easy to see the lights the techs had set up all around the body, illuminating it like it was in some sort of twisted circus ring. It appeared to be a girl as they got closer, two ropes suspending her from an old oak tree - one around her neck, the other around her hips. The bad part was that her arms and legs were gone, shorn off at the joints.

He could see Mamet and Porter milling about around the corpse, Officer Dawn Lerner was overseeing everything while Gorman sat on his ass and picked his teeth. He had to squint a bit as the lights hit his eyes, and he and Beth stepped into the ring. He glanced at Greene, she was looking at the body with something that fell between sadness and distaste.

Most of the girl's face, and the greater portion of her skin, had either been eaten or rotted away, and good god did she smell. His nose wrinkled, and Beth brought up a hand to cover her mouth. Whoever had left her there could be states away at this point, the body had been there for ages.

"Shit," he muttered, staring up at her. She looked more red than anything else right now, but before that she looked like she'd been white. Something dripped, and he realized it was her.

"What took you so long?" Porter asked as he walked around the body snapping detail shots with a flashbulb camera, "Do you know how unpleasant it is out here?"

"Yeah, smells like death," Daryl muttered, grimacing.

"No," Eugene stopped to glare at him, "I had to walk two miles through the woods, in the dark. It is hot, there are bugs, and quite frankly I saw a raccoon in that tree." He pointed up into the oak, "Which I'm going to have to wait around for someone to catch it, cause it was eating the remains!"

"Yes, astonishing, the raccoon was eating," Milton deadpanned as he lifted a red bit of fallen something from the leaf litter with tweezers, "How inconvenient that it made us do our jobs." Beth had told him about Eugene and Milton's little spat, and apparently that little spat still hadn't smoothed out all the way. Porter was like an elephant, he never forgot a damn thing. Didn't seem too willing to forgive either.

Milton on the other hand, was more of a sarcastic little shit than Daryl ever could have hoped. Made being trapped around these two entertaining for once.

He glanced down, hoping to see the amused smile on Beth's face, but it wasn't there and neither was Beth. She could be damn quiet when she wanted to be, he shook his head watching her. She had a look of intense concentration as she stepped closer to the body, practically underneath it, and squinted at the ruined face and grinning, pink stained teeth.

"Is there something on her forehead?" She asked as a breeze blew through, the body swaying ever so slightly back and forth.

"We'll examine it when she's back at the lab," Mamet stated, "but it looks like someone may have carved something there. The flesh is too damaged to see it clearly, we'll have to take a closer look at the bones."

She nodded, and then stepped a bit closer, "And what's this?" She asked, gesturing towards something shiny around her neck.

Mamet looked up, squinting over his spectacles, "It would appear to be a -"

He didn't finish that statement as the wind blew harder, and the ropes groaned, and the body fell with a soft squishing sound. Beth didn't even get to react, just collapsed on instinct as she was hit with most of a ribcage and a lot of rotting flesh.

"Greene!" He yelled, moving to run for her as she struggled to push it off. She kind of looked like she wanted to cry, it had been a long few days for her. A hand caught him by the shoulder and yanked him back as Mamet and Porter started squabbling about evidence. Beth glared up at the face that was still suspended on the ropes by an arm.

"Ah ah, don't touch her," Stookey said, shoving past to get to the body, "no compromising the evidence more than it already is."

Looking more than a bit shell shocked, Beth just sat there as the body was pulled off of her and readied for transport. She didn't even move as Mamet and Porter started picking bits of the victim off her.

"At this stage of decomp you probably shouldn't have been standing so close," Porter scolded, "It wasn't stable."

"Then why the fuck didn't you tell her that?" Daryl snapped, that girl had already been through enough shit over the past few weeks (more than a bit of it was his fault), didn't need this on top of it.

"It probably should've occurred to us," Milton said apologetically to Beth.

"Damn right it should've," Daryl growled, glaring at the two of them.

"We're going to have to take her back to lab," Stookey said, straightening up, and looking down at Beth with a grimace, "There's too much in her hair to get out here."

Beth let out a low groan, closing her eyes tight as something slimy was picked off of her shoulder, "This is so much worse than the spiders."

"You want me to follow you back to the lab?" He asked, crouching down next to her, and she shook her head.

"No." She shook her head ever so slightly, "you need to get your sleep, we have work in the morning."

"You want me to pick you up for work then?" He didn't look at her, his thumb going up to his mouth for just a second. He scowled, he needed to break that habit, "Could bring breakfast, there's a Waffle Shop on the way." He could feel Stookey's eyes on them, and he didn't want to see the smirk on his face. Beth was his partner, he had a right to be concerned about his partner.

He glanced up at her, she looked like she was going to barf, "I don't think I'm gonna be eating for a while."

* * *

><p>Beth was doing her very best not to think about what, or rather who, was currently being picked out of her hair and clothes and everything else. The body had been cold and slimy, and now she felt cold and slimy, and more than anything in the world she wanted to be asleep in her bed. Hell, even Maggie's hacking cough would be more comforting than this.<p>

Porter and Mamet had taken her and the body back to the lab. Stookey was still back by Sweetwater helping wrangle that raccoon and trying to figure out what had happened to the arms and legs. As far as she knew Daryl had gone back home, and she was really hoping he'd gone to bed - at least one of them needed to be awake tomorrow.

"There's a scratch," Porter called from across the room where he was examining the body of the girl in the tree. The five body dump bodies were still out, they must've been trying to find more evidence or something, "running vertically along the squama of the frontal bone."

Beth glanced at Mamet, who currently had the tweezers at the nape of her neck, and he quickly translated, "There's a scratch in the bone on her forehead...Porter just likes to use big words."

"I'll swab it," Porter said, "see if I can find any particulates, maybe find some evidence on the weapon."

Beth sighed, feeling far too tired to think about solving cases. She wanted to be asleep. How was it that these two were so well rested? Probably cause the lucky ducks lived on their own, in their own apartments, well away from sisters who coughed like the devil was living in their chests. She closed her eyes, and hoped she'd fall asleep here and now, Mamet didn't exactly need her help for this.

It was nearly one in the morning now, so she couldn't help but find it kind of odd that someone's cell phone started buzzing. It was a distinctive pattern, two short buzzes for every long one.

"Sorry," Mamet muttered tensely, pulling off his gloves, and picking up his phone. "Yes?" He answered, and there was a long pause, "Yes I'm here…" His eyes flitted towards the five bodies laid out on their tables, "No, no I can't...I-I'm sorry I can't. Yes! Yes, I'm just busy. No, no don't worry I'll get it done, I just can't…" Milton trailed off, nervous eyes finding her curious gaze, "right now."

It was quiet for a very long time. Beth watching Milton, Milton listening to whoever was on the other end, and Eugene tinkering around in the background. Finally Mamet's death grip on his phone loosened, and he slowly placed it back in his pocket before pulling out a new pair of gloves.

"What was that?" Beth asked as the tweezers started to graze her scalp again.

"M-My mother," Milton said, plopping another piece of victim into a petri dish, "She's always been a bit overbearing."

Beth laughed, "Oh I know how you feel. My Mom didn't stop laying out my clothes for me till my sophomore year of high school. She means well -"

"Just gets to be a bit much sometimes?" Milton finished for her, and she nodded, "My mother still calls me three times a day to make sure I'm getting balanced meals."

"You tend to eat at one in the morning often?" Beth smirked, and his easy going smile faltered.

"A-Apparently she's been up all night….worried. I'm at work a lot, and don't usually have time to do my own shopping." He gave an awkward chuckle, "She thinks I should get a girlfriend."

"Do you want one?" Beth asked.

"No," Milton said definitely, "I don't think I'd like living with a cat, much less a living person...I'm not all that interesting anyways, I'm actually pretty boring."

Beth shook her head as much as she could given that she was covered in dead bits, "Oh come on, I'm sure you're plenty interesting."

"I work with dead people," Milton said, a dull look in his eyes that conveyed about as much lifelessness as those bodies. She shook her head again. Milton was dweeby and quiet and quite frankly bad with people, but she didn't think he was boring. He was certainly more pleasant than Eugene.

"And I own four pairs of Hello Kitty underwear." She shrugged as he snorted, "We're all a little boring."

"I'll keep that in mind," Milton said, setting something else in the dish, "And...I think we're done."

"Oh thank God." Beth sighed, now she just needed to go home and take a shower, and maybe pray she got a couple hours of sleep before Daryl showed up to take her to work. She couldn't help but smile a little, he was going to have to get up in two hours to be there in time. He really didn't have to do that, but Daryl was even more stubborn than she was. If he really wanted to she wasn't going to question it.

She could use the waffles. They were almost out of chicken soup, the cereal was gone and the milk had expired two days ago. At this rate she'd take any food she could get her hands on.

Beth gratefully accepted the wet rag from Milton, and started wiping at the caked blood and God knew what else that itched around her hairline. She couldn't wait to get in the shower, she just had to make the forty minute drive home… It was in that moment that she remembered that Daryl was the one who had taken her out to Sweetwater. She didn't have a car.

"Mamet?" She asked, looking up at him, "Could I ask you a huge favor?"

* * *

><p>Daryl leaned back into the leather armchair, fingers tapping out a rhythm. He was bored, and he wanted to be working on the case, yet somehow he once again found himself under Dale's watchful gaze. Part of him wanted to start making sarcastic comments, maybe a cheap shot about Dale's paisley tie...part of him was kind of disgusted that he could tell when someone's tie of all things was tacky.<p>

He'd been working this job far too long, of course he had Rick to blame for that.

"So Daryl," Dale began, sounding just about as enthused to be here as he was, "where did we leave off?" He didn't blame Dale, he knew he hadn't exactly been the easiest patient to deal with. He was still struggling to care about that, but he stayed quiet.

"Dunno," he muttered, "Was a couple weeks ago."

"Well lucky for you," Dale smiled, pulling out a yellow legal pad, "I have our notes right here."

"Then why the hell'd you ask?" Daryl asked. This man could be just as infuriating as Lori, except Dale never invited him over on taco night.

"It's good for you to recognize your own problems."

"I ain't got problems." Daryl glared at him.

"Then what would you call it?" Dale asked, and Daryl took in a slow breath. He just need to be patient, deal with this for another fifty minutes and he was home free. Beth had mentioned something about burgers, and he wanted to make sure she was getting some food in her. She still looked like hell this morning.

"I dunno…" Daryl shifted uncomfortably, "I got dead people."

Dale nodded, pen scratching something out on that yellow pad, "Do you really think that that's the problem? That she's dead?"

"Well I sure as hell wouldn't be here if she was alive," Daryl muttered.

"No, maybe not, but I still think there's an underlying issue. There's a reason you're struggling to move on." Dale, as far as Daryl was concerned, was spewing bullshit. Carol was dead, her daughter was dead, and that was the problem. The problem was that they were gone, and it wasn't fair. "What about your father?"

Daryl blinked, "What'd you just say?"

"Your father," Dale said again, and Daryl's skin started to prickle as he scowled, "I know you had a rather...tenuous...relationship with him…"

"He don't got anything to do with this!" Daryl snapped, "He's been in the ground for fifteen years, I don't need to go diggin him back up." It was a heart attack that had gotten Will Dixon in the end. When Daryl was younger he'd been hoping for some asshole to get fed up with his father, or yet another drunk roadtrip to the bar to end wrapped around a tree, but a heart attack was about as effective as anything. He decided he probably shouldn't mention that to Dale...it was just going to open a whole new bag of cats.

Dale nodded slowly, thinking, "You seem like a very loyal person Daryl."

He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably.

"The people in your life who show you the affection you lacked as a child...Rick, Lori, Carol...Beth?" Daryl stiffened a little at her name, and he decided not to question that. It was just another bag of cats that didn't need to be opened, or touched with a ten foot pole for that matter, "You'd do anything for them...die for them?"

Daryl didn't make eye contact, instead deciding to focus on the intricate detailing on Dale's end table.

"When you have that much of a connection towards a person...perhaps you feel a responsibility? A...A…" Dale searched for words, "a sort of, gratitude."

"It ain't gratitude!" Daryl snapped, "Or any of that bullshit."

"Okay then, explain it to me," Dale said, pen sitting at ready on the page. Daryl took a deep breath.

"Rick, Lori, Carol...they're family." The end tables had little elephants down near the base, the kind that people would ride. Maybe Dale had gotten it in India. "If I'd die for 'em its cause its the same thing Id've done for Merle. I care for 'em cause I care for 'em, not cause I think I owe 'em for some bullshit pity party." His twang was thicker than normal, even he could hear it. It tended to get like that when he was pissed, and right now he might not have been on his feet yelling, but there was a slow burn in his belly.

"What about Beth?" Dale asked, "Does she fall into the family category?"

Did she? She sure as hell wasn't the ditzy girl he'd thought she'd been. She was a good partner, a good detective, and he...he bit his lip. If things went to shit, and it came down to him or her who would he pick?

He nodded slowly, "Yeah, she does."

Dale shifted in his chair as Daryl waited in silence, trying to figure out why his heart his beating all funny, "Regardless of why, Daryl, you feel immense amounts of loyalty towards these people. Don't you?"

Daryl nodded.

"When someone you love that much dies, and you…" Dale paused, "You feel like you could've done something. Daryl, you have to admit that that is going to take a toll on you."

"I never said it didn't."

"Daryl you do know that Carol's death wasn't your fault. Don't you?" Daryl didn't respond, "If Rick or Lori...or Beth were to die... you know it won't be your fault?"

"You can't know that," Daryl said, trying not to think about any of them being dead. He already had Carol and Sophia haunting his mind, he didn't need to start thinking about them with empty eyes too. He took a deep breath, "I knew Ed was starting to get aggressive, I knew he was a violent drunk who couldn't deal with Carol divorcing him...and I...I saw one of the texts he'd sent her."

"Daryl-"

"I should've been there alright?!" He snapped, "I should've known he was going to try something! I just…. I should've been there for them."

"You're in a dangerous line of work Daryl," Dale said, "People die. The next time you lose a partner, you can't just-"

"I'm not going to lose Beth," Daryl said, a coldness seeping into his voice that startled even him, but the words were true. He wasn't going to lose her.

* * *

><p>He was doing his best to balance two cups of scalding starbucks on one hand while holding a couple to-go boxes in the other. He didn't know why he hadn't just let them give him one of those little cardboard caddies, or at least a damn bag for the boxes. Blame it on him and his manly pride, but now he was just hoping he didn't spill it all over himself before he managed to get it to Beth's office.<p>

She'd practically begged him to make the run out to Starbucks. She could've just asked really, but if she wanted to beg Daryl wasn't going to object - the way her eyes got all big when she was pleading was more than a bit amusing.

Her eyes were glued to her laptop when he slipped through her door, whatever it was she was working on had her full attention. He hadn't even been trying to be quiet, but she still jumped when he set their lunches down on the desk. He laughed, shaking his head and handing her her coffee as he sat down.

"You're making me break my rule, Dixon," she said, grabbing for the piece of cheese cake he'd bought her. He'd told her she should get a sandwich, she'd insisted she needed a sugar rush. He didn't argue, though he was thinking about trying to get her to eat a bit of his turkey club. There was no way in hell he wanted to be doing this case on his own.

"And what rule is that?" He asked, pulling out his sandwich and taking a bite. Starbucks didn't exactly have the best food, but he was hungry, and when it came down to it turkey was turkey.

"I don't eat at my desk," she said, "But unless you plan on carrying me, I'm not going all the way to the break room."

"That just ain't happening," Daryl said through a full mouth and she rolled her eyes at his manners.

"You've carried me before."

"Maybe I decided you're too heavy," he teased, smirking when he caught a playful glare.

"I'm not heavy! Maybe you're just getting too old." She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Whatever you say, Greene."

They ate in comfortable silence after that, and Beth was starting to look a bit more awake by the time she pulled out a massive stack of files for the case, cleared off their empty food containers, and split the work between them.

"You ready for a bit of light readin'?" She forced a smile, and he shook his head, begrudgingly pulling the first file off of his stack.

"I'd rather you shoot me."

Beth laughed, "You've already proven you're more than capable of getting yourself shot, don't need my help."

His shoulder still ached from that night, and every time he pushed it too hard he got an 'I told you so' look from Beth. He shook his head, and laughed. She took her first papers, and they settled in to start reading. They had a very long way to go.

It took a while, but by the time they were halfway done and the coffee had started to wear off they had given up any sort of professional pretense. He had slouched so slow in his seat that his ass was hanging in the air and his back was the only thing really in the chair. Beth had swung around sideways, legs propped over one arm rest, her head reaching over to rest against the wooden side of his chair.

"That just can't be comfortable," he commented, glancing over at her. He was so far down their heads were practically on the same level.

"It isn't," Beth said with a laugh, wriggling to stretch out her back.

He shook his head, and straightened up, "Here," he said, lifting her off his chair with one hand and rolling hers closer with the other. She settled up against him, her back against his arm, head resting against his shoulder. He could smell the coconuts, and it only got stronger as he let his cheek rest against her hair.

They'd read a lot of reports, and had a lot more to go, but it didn't seem like they were making progress. All they had was a dismembered girl with a single line cut into her forehead, and a gold necklace with the Virgin Mary on it. As far as he'd heard they hadn't found the missing parts yet either.

"Greene," he said quietly, thinking they should go do something else before he went crazy, "Greene," he tried again, no response. Lifting his head off of hers he glanced down, she was dead asleep. Yeah he was pretty out of it to.

He shook his head, watching her... she looked peaceful. There were rings around her eyes still, but she didn't look quite so tired. With a sigh he leaned back, pulled a file off of her stack, and started reading. She needed her sleep.

* * *

><p>Beth was utterly exhausted when she finally got home, and she hadn't even done half of her work. Daryl had done it for her...she felt bad about that. The weight that pulled at her eyelids made it very hard for her to focus though. This job didn't exactly allow for much sleep, but recently it had just been getting ridiculous.<p>

She needed to be taking care of herself better, she knew that, but she needed to be taking care of Maggie too. They were sisters, and family always came first.

It was actually kind of a shock walking into the living room and seeing her on the couch. She'd expected Maggie to be upstairs in her room. It wasn't too horribly late, only nine, but she'd been going to bed so early recently. The news was on - yet another report on twelve missing girls from some Christian school - the tissue horde had migrated down the stairs with her, and she appeared to be clutching a quart of icecream. She was downstairs all of her own accord though, and that's all Beth needed to see.

"Hey," she said with a sleepy smile, setting her purse down in a chair and sprawling out on the loveseat, "How're you feeling?"

"I think I ate too much ice cream," Maggie groaned, putting a hand over her stomach.

Beth laughed, "How much did you eat?"

She held up the empty tub, "All of it."

"Jesus Christ, Maggie!" She knew her sister could eat a lot, but a whole thing of ice cream sounded extreme. Beth sighed, though it very quickly turned into a yawn, "You going to be okay on your own for a while? I need to go take a shower, might just turn in after."

Maggie's lips fell into a tight frown for just a moment, and Beth wondered what she'd said. "Yeah that's fine," Maggie forced a smile up, "I was thinking of going through the DVR, find some Bachelor episodes to rewatch."

"Call if you need anything. I'll probably see you in the morning."

"Are you not going to eat?" Maggie asked, now she was sounding like the concerned one.

Beth shook her head, "I'm just tired. I'll make sure to remember breakfast in the morning."

"Well goodnight -" Maggie didn't get to finish her sentence as the doorbell rang. They looked at each other in confusion. She didn't think Jehovah's Witnesses came around after dark, and that didn't leave a lot of other options. She let out a heavy breath, someone else had gone and gotten themselves murdered hadn't they?

"I'll get it," she said, a resigned tone in her voice. As much as she like spending time with Daryl, she didn't want to leave the house right now, or quite frankly be dressed.

She hadn't been expecting it to be anyone other than Daryl, but she hadn't been expecting him to be carrying groceries. They were both quiet for a while, Beth staring at him, him awkwardly glancing between the bags and anything that wasn't her. He cleared his throat, and she blinked and wondered what her life had come to. Since when was Daryl Dixon her personal shopper.

"So uh…" Daryl started, "You doin anything?"

"Well, I was going to go take a shower…" Beth said, "Get to bed early."

"You eaten yet?" He asked, she shook her head and he rolled his eyes, "Damn it, Greene. You already look half dead." He pushed past her into the house, and she closed the door behind them.

"I didn't feel like cooking," she muttered, giving him a glare. She didn't particularly feel like being scolded right now either.

"Well you don't have to," he said, shaking the bags as he stalked off towards the kitchen, "S'what I'm here for." Beth glanced at Maggie who was watching them curiously, and hurried after him.

"Daryl you don't have to do that," she insisted as he set the bags down on the table and started pulling out what looked like ground beef. He just glanced at her, and kept unloading groceries. Feeling mildly exasperated, but knowing she couldn't win, she slid up next to him and reached into one of the bags. She'd almost grabbed a head of lettuce when a warm hand closed around her wrist and pulled it back out.

"Go take your shower, Greene. I've got it." There was something in his gaze that she just couldn't quite figure out and it frustrated her beyond belief. Almost as much the heat she felt where her skin touched his did. Almost as much as the goosebumps that were left when his fingers slipped from her wrist and his hand fell away, "Don't be too long." He turned away from her as he ripped the plastic from the beef, "Burgers don't take much time to cook."

She nodded, eyes trailing over his back as she turned and nearly ran into Maggie. Her older sister had that look in her eyes, one she knew all too well. It was the look she'd gotten the Valentine's day she'd gotten off the bus from school with a rose in her hand. It was the look she'd gotten the first Christmas Zach had spent on the farm. It was look that she couldn't associate with Daryl if she wanted to, cause he was her partner and she had a boyfriend, and she wasn't supposed to be thinking about Daryl Dixon's shoulders.

So instead she glared at Maggie, trying to convey as much 'shut your mouth' as possible without actually using words, and quickly made for the stairs.

* * *

><p>He was trying to ignore Maggie's burning gaze, but as much as he tried to focus on molding beef into burgers he couldn't shake off the feel of her eyes on the back of his neck. Didn't help that the girl looked like a god damn zombie, a zombie that was wrapped in a comforter and liked to sniffle at you.<p>

It took from the moment that Beth left the room, to the moment he heard the shower turn on for him to break. "Can I help you with somethin?" He asked, trying not to sound too pissy as he slowly turned to look at her. She didn't take her eyes off of him, she wasn't glaring or anything it was like...like she was trying to figure him out. It was unsettlingly quiet as they both stared at each other, Maggie's intense expression never breaking.

"How're things between you and my sister?" She finally broke the silence, and he very suddenly wanted the awkward quiet back.

He bit his lip, and took his time examining the pattern in the marble counters before replying. "Good."

"Just good?" Maggie asked, stepping deliberately closer. Daryl couldn't help but feel as if he'd made a horrible mistake in coming here. He should've just dragged Beth out to eat, she wasn't that heavy if she was really opposed to it he could always carry her out to the truck. He had no idea what was up with Maggie, but he felt like she thought he knew what she knew, but to be honest he didn't have a damn idea what was going on.

He blinked, "I guess?" She nodded, and it was very quiet again. Trying not to let his confusion turn into annoyance, he went back to cooking. He'd brought a rub for the beef, just some store bought spices nothing special, just didn't want it to taste bland. He looked through his bags, doing his best to ignore Maggie's footsteps getting closer.

"So." Her voice was kind of nasally from the cold, but somehow she still managed to make him uncomfortable instead of amused, "You're making dinner for Beth."

"Welcome to have some too," Daryl said, not looking up.

"Any particular reason you're making dinner for my little sister?" She asked, ducking her head to get back into his line of vision. His hands finally closed around the pack of seasoning and he quickly spun around to the cabinets, loudly searching for a bowl. "Daryl I asked you a question."

"Girl hasn't been takin care of herself," he muttered, picking a bowl and setting it heavily on the counter, "I ain't gonna be the one to pick up the slack when she falls over or somethin'."

"That the only reason?" She asked as he picked up the spice packet, squinting as he pulled at the edge trying to find the little notch. Damn thing said tear here, why wouldn't it open?

"Yeah," he said gruffly. Maybe if he just kept things short she'd get bored and go away.

"Really? Ain't got anything to do with the way you look at her?" Apparently he'd been pulling at the right place all along, cause his hand jerked and the two of them were sent reeling as a puff of spices hit them in the face. Daryl coughed, Maggie started hacking as they both gripped at the counter for support.

"Why the hell would you say something like that?" He growled, voice straining as he struggled to find his breath.

"I dunno, why does she get that little smile on her face whenever she says your name?" Maggie managed to wheeze out before another bout of coughs made her double over. His eyes were burning and his tongue felt powdery, and he should've been staggering over to the sink to wash this shit off, but instead he stopped and looked at her.

"She does what?"

She didn't get time to answer his question as the doorbell rang and they both froze. She got very quiet for a second as she mouthed something silently and pointed to herself, then him, and then paused as if listening to the sound of the shower running upstairs. He glanced at the clock, it was ten.

"Well who the hell would that be?" She asked, looking horribly confused.

"I dunno," Daryl shrugged. The doorbell rang again.

"Go get it," she said, shooing him towards the door.

"Its your house, you get it," he grumbled, dusting some of the spices off on his jeans and turning on the faucet, splashing his face with water as she glared at him.

"I don't know who's out there," she hissed as it rang again.

"Your house."

"I look like death warmed over!" She snapped, clutching her blanket closer and glaring at him.

"Still your house." He said before ducking down to rinse his mouth, swishing and spitting as she fumed. There was no way in hell he was going to go get the damn door. It was her house. He didn't know who it was either, but he was confident that if she didn't want them to be there she could just stare at them until they slunk back to their car.

"Daryl -" She said, voice edging dangerously close to Lori's 'mom tone' as the doorbell rang twice.

"No," he growled.

"Daryl, so help me God, I will go upstairs drag Beth down here clothed or not, and start asking questions about why she was waiting at the window for you the other night like some kinda puppy."

Daryl froze, whoever was outside was getting impatient, the room filling with one continuous ring as the button was mashed down. She was breathing heavily, he was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing altogether.

"Don't think I won't," Maggie warned. He glared at her, but he didn't say another word in protest. Stalking off towards the foyer, and throwing the door open. He was sure he looked just a little bit intimidating. He knew from Beth's teasing he had a hell of a bitch face, and at the moment he was just in a shit mood. He'd changed out the suit for the flannel and jeans, straight-outta-the-sticks look, and he was sure that didn't help his case as the two blonds stared at him in confusion.

"Is Beth here?" The guy asked, and Daryl's brow furrowed. Who would be looking for Beth at this time of night. He knew he spent more time with her than just about anyone else except for maybe Maggie. All her other friends were at the APD. He glanced between the two of them, a kind of soft looking guy with a forgettable face and a pretty blonde girl who seemed even bubblier than Beth.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl asked, leaning into the doorframe with a glower.

"I'm her boyfriend." So this was Zach. Daryl got the distinct feeling that he didn't like him. Couldn't pinpoint why, but he didn't, "Who the hell are you?"

"Her partner," Daryl said, not moving from the door.

"Oh!" The girl practically jumped out of excitement, and Daryl blinked. What the hell? "You're Daryl!"

He paused for a moment as he tried to process it, "...Yeah."

"Beth's told me so much about you," she pushed past Zach, and reached out to shake his hand. He did, though somewhat hesitantly, "I'm Amy Harrison."

"Oh," Daryl nodded, "Andrea's little sister. Yeah, Beth's mentioned you." He glanced awkwardly from the girl over to Zach who wasn't exactly glaring, but didn't seem to be looking at him with friendly intentions either. Well at least they had something in common.

Amy nodded, "Yep." The girl didn't seem to have any reservations, slipping past him and into the house, "So do you really have a motorcycle?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at Zach who still hadn't made a move to come in. Daryl didn't bother inviting him, it was his girl friend's place, he was a big boy, he could do it his own damn self. So instead he followed after Amy and left Zach to close the door himself.

"Do you and Beth ride it a lot?" Amy asked.

He nodded, "I guess."

"She rides your bike?" Zach asked, looking incredulous as he lead them through the hall.

Daryl shrugged, "It's convenient."

"Is it safe?"

"I give her the helmet," Daryl said as they walked into the kitchen and Amy practically started shrieking. He cringed. Why the hell hadn't he just taken Beth out to eat? This had gone from a bad idea to practically being trapped in hell.

"Maggie!" Amy practically tackled her, and it looked like the sick girl was struggling to keep her feet. The three made their greetings, and Daryl decided to take the opportunity to start cleaning up all the shit he'd spilled. He couldn't help but be a bit happy to see that Maggie didn't seem to adore Zach either. The conversation had moved on from how's life to the Georgia weather by the time Daryl was tossing patties into the frying pan.

"What're you doing?" Zach asked, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"Makin' burgers," Daryl grumbled, "the hell does it look like?"

He looked like he was holding back a scowl, "Yeah, but why?"

"Your girlfriend ain't too good at takin care of herself," Daryl said with a bit of a smirk, poking one of the burgers with his spatula, "Been lookin like she's gonna topple over the past couple days."

"Hope she's not getting my cold." Maggie pulled her blanket tight around her shoulders.

"Better not," Daryl grumbled, "Got shit to do."

"Where is she anyways?" Amy asked peeking into the living room. He paused listening for a second. The shower wasn't running anymore, they'd probably hear her banging around in her drawers in a moment. Right on cue something started bumping around in her room.

"Upstairs," Maggie said, "she was taking a shower before dinner."

Speaking of the devil, there was a yell from up stairs, "Daryl!?"

"What!?" He called back, flipping the first of the burgers. He glanced at the two newcomers, "Y'all want some?"

"We already ate," Zach said, just as footsteps started down the steps.

"Daryl!" Beth's voice came from the living room.

"Already said what," He said loudly enough for her to hear as she made her way into the kitchen. He blinked, and so did Zach. She was all wrapped up in that fluffy pink bathrobe of hers, hair pulled back in a towel.

"These are yours," she said, tossing a pair of his boxers at him, "I swear to god I don't know where they all come from, they're like cockroaches."

He stared at the underwear in his hands, and then glanced up at Zach. Well this certainly looked bad. The guy looked too in shock to say much, Amy was on the verge of giggles, and Maggie had fixed him with that look again.

"Have you seen my comfy shirt?" She asked, "The big one? I haven't been able to find it for weeks, and you were the one who did the laundry the last time I had it." He'd taken to helping with the chores when he'd been staying over. Now glancing at Zach again he kind of wished he hadn't stayed at all. Dear god this was awkward.

"Wait, does this guy live here or something?" Zach asked, and she paused, head snapping over to the corner of the kitchen.

"Oh my, God," She grinned, "Zach!" With a laugh she practically launched herself at him throwing her arms around his neck. "Amy!" She lunged at her best friend, "What're y'all doing here?"

"We flew down this afternoon," Zach said, face falling again, "We've been talking about this for weeks, remember?"

Beth's brow furrowed, "Oh, Zach I'm sorry. I've been busy with work, and everything...and then a body fell on me last night -"

"What?" Maggie and Amy asked at the same time, brows shooting up.

"Don't ask," Daryl and Beth replied simultaneously.

Zach shook his head, "Whatever...its fine."

"Are you sure?" Beth frowned.

"Yeah." There was a very long, awkward silence, and Daryl half heartedly poked a burger with his spatula. Oh this was going to be a weird night.

* * *

><p>Beth felt bad that she had forgotten that Zach was coming to visit. She really did, but the tense silence was making it very hard for her to feel guilty. She'd been looking forward to the visit, but she'd just been so busy with everything. First there was work, then Maggie, and for some reason her brain had been horribly foggy the past couple of days.<p>

She'd thought the fact that they'd been together for the past six years would have given her some leeway. Instead he was sulking.

Zach had taken the armchair when they all went into the living room with dinner. Amy, who had a famously impenetrable immune system, was more than happy to plunk down on the loveseat with Maggie. Which left the couch to her and Daryl. For some reason that didn't make Zach look any happier, but that was his own fault, wasn't it?

"These are really good Daryl," she said through a mouthful of burger, glancing over at him. He seemed to be enjoying his too. Maggie had had about half before her stomach decided it couldn't handle it. She was doing better tonight, the past couple of weeks had been rough, but she was actually up and about, interacting. It was good.

"Thanks," Daryl said.

"Yeah, where the hell did you learn to cook?" Maggie asked, "I thought you were all redneck bachelor over there, ya know, Easy-Mac and stuff."

Beth laughed, "I should make him come over and cook his lasagna for you, it's delicious." Zach's eyes narrowed again and she had to struggle not to sigh. A couple months away from him had made her forget about his slight jealous streak. It could be cute sometimes, but then there were days like this. Daryl was her partner, and Zach had no right to be getting fussy over that.

Daryl shook his head, a bit of that smile coming through. She needed to make him do that more often. "Figured it out on my own." Daryl shrugged, "Guess I got tired of Easy-Mac."

"Oh come on," Amy said, "You can't get tired of that shit. It's great."

"You try eatin' it three meals a day for a week," Daryl grumbled, "You ain't gonna shit right for months."

Beth snorted, trying not to choke on her food. Amy and Maggie were laughing too, Zach on the other hand didn't seem very amused. She remembered one time years ago at a club he'd gotten in some guy's face for grabbing her ass. It had been sweet then, sure they'd had to go home early and clean him up after he'd gotten punched in the face...but it had been sweet. Now she just wanted to roll her eyes.

There was absolutely no reason to be jealous about Daryl.

"So Daryl," Zach started and she fought the urge to let out an exasperated sigh, "You don't seem to be the cop type."

"And Beth does?" Daryl smirked, glancing over at her.

"Jerk." Beth laughed chucking one of her fries at him, he picked it up off his shirt and plopped it in his mouth.

"You best watch it, girl," he warned, though she knew there was no weight behind the threat. Worst he could do would be to pick her up again...she glanced at Zach, yeah that would actually be pretty bad right now.

Maggie turned to Zach, answering his question, "You should see him in a suit."

Yeah that was probably a bad thing to say right now too. Zach's lip twitched, and Daryl's brow furrowed as he looked at Maggie. She knew Maggie had never been all that fond of Zach, she said something about him seeming too corporate. Beth had had to remind her that Maggie worked for a bank, but she just said that was how she knew. She could smell it on them.

She'd never even been sure what 'too corporate' was or how it could be a bad thing. That didn't matter though, what mattered was that Maggie wasn't Zach's biggest fan and she was doing everything she could to make him even more uncomfortable.

For a moment she almost wished they could go back to sad, locks herself in her room Maggie. Not for long or anything, just the night, or maybe just until Zach was gone.

"The hell you been lookin' at me in a suit for?" Daryl asked, looking horribly confused. Maggie shrugged, Beth flushed, and Amy looked like she was about to bust out in giggles. Beth glared at her. Her best friend had always been very perceptive, and she knew exactly what Maggie was playing at. The blond's eyes flitted between her and Daryl a couple times, and then she gave her the look.

Why did everyone keep thinking that?

"So what're you guys working on right now?" Amy asked, "Beth's been bad at keeping me updated."

"Don't really know," Beth said, "A dismembered girl was found in a tree." Three faces twisted up, "But we don't really know wh-"

"Cannibals!" The sudden yell made everyone jump as the front door busted open, and footsteps raced down the hall, "Cannibals! It was cannibals, oh my golly glory we've got cannibals in Atlanta."

It was Porter...how the hell did Porter find her house. Milton trailed in behind the far more exuberant Eugene, and gave her an awkward wave and an apologetic smile. He'd given her a ride here the other night...ah, that would be it.

Porter was practically grinning ear to ear as he swung a case up onto the coffee table, "We found the missing limbs! We found the missing limbs buried a few hundred yards away, and you wouldn't believe what we found!"

"Lemme guess," Daryl deadpanned, "It was cannibals."

Eugene glared at him as he undid the fastenings on the case, "No, we found… teeth marks!" He announced with bravado as he flung open the case, and Amy screamed. It was an arm wrapped up in an evidence bag. Beth blinked.

"Eugene...did you bring an..._arm _into my house?" Beth asked, somewhere behind her Milton let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh Jesus." Zach looked like he was about to hurl.

Porter on the other hand, was on a roll. "Teeth marks! Human, teeth marks. It's not just one set either, there have to be six or seven different people who were eating off the bones!"

She and Daryl leaned in closer, he was right, the bites looked human. Oh this case really was more complicated than she'd been hoping it would be.

"So what, we've got a cannibalistic cult runnin' round somewhere?" Daryl asked.

Milton cleared his throat, "Well based on the almost ritualistic manner in which the body was placed...yes I would assume so."

Zach stood, hurriedly rushing off towards the bathroom. Amy looked like she might not be far behind as she tried to look anywhere but the arm on the table. Maggie didn't look pleased, but she didn't look all that queasy. If anything she just looked pissed that someone had put an arm on her coffee table.

"Excuse me?" Maggie spoke up, lips tight, "Is there a good reason you put this shit on my furniture, or are we just playin' show an' tell?"

"We-We actually did need to speak to Dixon and Greene," Milton said, "There, there's been another murder. They got another girl."

* * *

><p>This murder scene wasn't all that different from the last. A limbless girl hung in a tree next to water. This time it was the Chattahoochee instead of the Sweetwater, and the body wasn't nearly so decomposed. He almost preferred the rotted corpses to the the fresh ones, they didn't feel as real when they didn't look like people.<p>

He grimaced, looking up at her, Beth at his side.

"Necklace," she said quietly as Eugene ranted about cannibalism in different cultures. The girl was naked, just like the last, and just like the last had nothing but a simple gold pendant on a thin gold chain. It was the same one of the Virgin Mary from the looks of it, "And her forehead, look."

He frowned, this girl's forehead had been cut too, but it was a bit different, "Two lines." Two vertical lines red against pale skin.

Beth bit her lip, suddenly looking sad, "Tally marks." A cold feeling spread through his gut, they were counting them. This wouldn't be the last girl to die if they didn't track these bastards down.

"What're we talking about?" Daryl grimaced. He hadn't been expecting Shane to be here.

"We think there's gonna be more of them," Beth said, gesturing up to the body, "They're marking the victims, this is number two."

"Any connections?" Shane asked.

"Haven't gotten i.d's yet," Daryl shook his head, "They both have that necklace, though.

"Necklace?" Shane's brow furrowed, and he squinted as he tried to get a better look, "That Mary?" He asked, and then breaking out into a grin, "Hard to tell from here, but I uh, don't want to get too close." The man's gaze flicked down to Beth, and she let out an embarrassed sigh.

"Don't tell me that's been spread all over the county."

"Nah, don't worry yourself. Rick told me," Shane laughed, "But uh...I think I might have a lead on your victims." He always had such a self satisfied tone. Daryl had no love for Shane, but he knew what he was doing, and Rick loved him so Daryl listened. A bit begrudgingly, but he listened.

" 's School," Shane said, and it hit him.

"Shit," Daryl shook his head. Well at least they knew what number they were counting to now. Two weeks ago twelve girls from St. Mary's School had disappeared on a field trip to Atlanta. As far as they knew ten were still alive.

"Mamet!" Daryl called, and the geek shot up looking over at him, " 's School."

The man frowned, looking up at the girl, "I'll run the victims through the list of missing girls when we get back to the lab...give you the contacts for the families."

"What about cause of death?" Shane asked, "Blood loss?" Daryl glanced down at Beth, the geeks hadn't gotten back them on that yet.

"Drowning," Mamet said, looking down at the river, "The first girl was drowned."

* * *

><p>Beth almost never woke up before her alarm. She was always too tired, but everything was so weird right now. She hadn't slept with anyone in months, and even though Zach had been dead out by the time Beth got back home, he'd never been a quiet sleeper. Every shift and snore woke her up again, so when four a.m. rolled around she decided it was time to give up.<p>

She'd gotten home late last night, or rather very very early in the morning. Daryl had offered to take her back to his place, but she'd told him she needed to go home. She felt bad, Zach had come all this way and she hadn't even spent any time with him. Not that she was going to now, instead she was slipping out the door before he was even awake.

She couldn't let Zach distract her from work though, there were ten more girls out there. Ten girls they needed to find before a body marked with three lines turned up. She loved Zach, but work came first.

The shower was warm and her breakfast was cold, and she thought she might even get into work early. If she was lucky she'd have time to pull together a nice concise report for the morning meeting, make sure all the other detectives were keeping an eye out for cannibals. Shoes were pulled on, coffee finished, and keys fished out of the bottom of her purse when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Zach asked sleepily, looking like he was trying to hold back a yawn.

"Work," she said, quickly checking her face in the mirror. She could've looked worse, though the coverup hadn't done the best job of covering up the dark circles.

"I kinda thought you were going to take a couple days off." She didn't have to see Zach to know what face he was making, the one that looked like a kicked puppy.

"Zach this isn't my old job...I can't just take days off like that, especially not right now." She turned to look at him, keys still clutched firmly in her hand.

"I came down here to see you."

"Twelve girls came down here to go to an aquarium, and now two of them are dead," she snapped, "Zach I love you, but work comes first."

Zach's lip curled, "Right."

"Zach." She was starting to get exasperated with him, "Is this really what you're gonna try to fight me on? I'll be home tonight."

"Will you?" He asked, "Cause you spent most of last night curled up with Dixon."

"I had to go to a crime scene!"

"Before that!" Zach shot back.

She shook her head, turning on her heel and heading for the door, "I don't have time for this." She needed to be at work, she had a meeting to attend, and murderers to catch, and ten girls who were probably scared out of their minds who needed to be found. Daryl would be waiting for her, he'd mentioned stopping by Krispy Kreme so if she was lucky there'd be a boston cream donut and coffee with her name on it.

"Beth." Zach caught her arm, "Beth you can't keep ignoring me."

"I'm not ignoring you!"

"Yeah?" His eyebrows shot up, incredulous, "Is that why we haven't had a full conversation in a month now? Cause you're _not _ignoring me?"

"Zach, you know I have work," she hissed.

"Yeah, and you used to have me! We used to do things together, talk to each other. I was willing to put up with the fact that you're busy, but you know, I'm kinda starting to think this about something else."

"Zach." Her voice was starting to strain. She was so tired, she was working on a case that didn't seem to be going anywhere other than twelve graves, and she didn't need this on top of everything else.

"This isn't about work is it? This is about Daryl." So that's what he thought was it? He thought that fucking her coworker was a more likely explanation than trying to catch murderers. She suddenly felt so incredibly frustrated, this wasn't about him, or her, or her busy work schedule. He was just jealous, how could he be so insensitive?

"Zach! He's my partner!"

He let out a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I bet he's your partner for a lot of thin -" He cut off suddenly, seeing the look on her face. He knew he'd crossed a line.

"You're a jerk," Beth spat, trying not to look like she felt like crying as she stormed out of the house.

* * *

><p>"You're here early," Martinez said, taking the seat across from him. The break room was normally pretty empty at this time, though he and Tyreese were both there. Ty was standing off near the counter, half heartedly staring at the gray, sludgy coffee. Daryl couldn't help but smugly take a sip of his own, Krispy Kreme wasn't exactly gourmet, but it was better than that shit.<p>

"Yep," Daryl said, eyeing the door. Beth should be here soon.

Martinez licked his lips, "You've got donuts."

"Donuts?" Tyreese piped up, suddenly looking very hopeful. He should've known better than to bring donuts into a building full of cops, it was asking to get buried under a hundred hungry officers.

"Ain't for you," Daryl gave a pointed look to Martinez, and then glanced at Tyreese, "Either of ya."

"C'mon you can't eat all those by yourself, there's what four or five in that bag?" Tyreese said, sliding into the seat next to him. Daryl's hand inched for the bag, suddenly feeling rather protective.

"Ain't gonna eat em by myself," Daryl grumbled, glaring at them.

"Oh…" A shit eating grin worked its way across Martinez's face, "I get it. Those are for Beth."

He started to hunch slightly in his seat scowling, "Yeah, she's my partner."

"Aww, Darylina," Martinez ruffled his hair, and Daryl had to fight off the urge to either sink to the floor and disappear, or turn around and sock him in the mouth. Merle had shown up at the office once, Martinez hadn't let that nickname go since, "Isn't that just cute."

"The hell's cu-" He cut himself off as the door opened, and he saw Beth's blond hair in the threshold. He didn't waste a second, grabbing the bag, both of their coffees, and practically bolting for the door. He hooked her arm in his and pulled her out along with him, ignoring Martinez and Tyreese cracking up behind him.

He handed her her coffee, continuing to pull her away from the breakroom, "Mamet called this morning. Got names for the girls, Marissa Hall was the first, the other's Cassie Daniels. Thought we could split it up...each tell a family." He had to admit that that wasn't his favorite part of the job, "Got contact information for the other ten girls, their families will need to be notified of where their daughters are. Could take five a piece."

"Yeah," Beth said, and he paused, there was something off in her voice. Pulling her to a stop, he didn't take his hand off her arm as he looked at her face. She wasn't making eye contact...had she been crying? His grip loosened, and he fought the urge to bite his thumb. He never knew what to say when shit like this happened, time and time again she'd shown that was her strong point in the partnership...not his.

He was practically an imbecile. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, or do, or if he should even ask. Though he knew she'd've only seen a couple people today, and he had a feeling he knew who would've made her cry.

He decided it would be more awkward to ask, so instead he simply said, "Your boyfriend's a dick," and expected to move on. They had a lot of families to call. She didn't move to follow him though, instead she was just standing there...giggling.

"I say something funny?" He asked, a trace of a smile pulling at his lips. He'd rather her be laughing than crying.

A hand went up to cover her mouth as she shook her head, "No," she said through her laughter, "No, just...I don't know." Her hand fell away, revealing the first honest smile he'd seen from her since Maggie had been sick.

She had a pretty smile.

"C'mon, Greene." He put a hand on her back, and gently pushed her down the hall, "Got work to do."

* * *

><p>Beth still felt emotionally exhausted from all the phone calls she'd made. She couldn't tell which was worse, the hysterical fear of the parents who didn't know if their daughters were alive, or the broken cries of the ones who knew theirs weren't. It had been a relief seeing Amy's text that Zach had dragged her out to the movies. He never was good with the aftermath of a fight, he usually used Amy as a buffer zone and would go hang with her till Beth finally took the time to get him to deal with it.<p>

She was too tired to do that right now though. She was glad she would just get some time to herself, recuperate.

She'd kind of been hoping she could just go upstairs and go to bed, but Maggie was on the couch, and she figured she'd get flak for just ignoring her. So she plopped down on the couch, threw her feet up over her lap, and shot her a sleepy smile.

"How was your day?" Beth asked.

"Boring," Maggie replied, "Yours?"

"Long." They both laughed, and Beth stretched out, closing her eyes. She was glad Maggie was starting to get back to normal. They way she'd been egging on Zach last night, Beth smirked a little, that was something Maggie would've done back when Glenn was still here. They'd had a setback, but she was recovering.

"You're pretty close with Daryl," Maggie said, and Beth's opened her eyes watching her sister suspiciously, "You stay at his place pretty often."

"Maggie, don't you start too."

She held up her hands in defense, "I'm not starting anything. Was just wondering…"

"Wondering what?" Beth asked, feeling very tired of people assuming that she and Daryl were sleeping together. He was her partner for God's sake.

"Would you mind staying with him for a while?" Maggie asked quickly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. Beth's brow furrowed.

"I mean I can ask...why?"

"It won't be long! Just till...just till you can find your own place." Maggie finished, eyes glued to the carpet. What? Beth had moved all the way down here to stay with her, given up her job, and apparently ruined her relationship with her boyfriend. Was she…

"Are you kicking me out?" Beth asked, straightening up.

"No! No, no, no," Maggie said frantically, "Well I mean kind of, I...well yes." Beth blinked, how was she supposed to respond to that. "Bethy, please don't take it wrong. I don't want you to leave, I just...I don't know. I've never had to live by myself before."

"What?" Beth was confused, and she didn't know if she was supposed to be angry, but she wasn't. She was tired, and Maggie didn't seem to be mad at her...she seemed more upset than Beth felt.

"I mean I was at home, and then I had my dorm mates, and then I moved in with Glenn before college was even over...I've never had to be alone before." She took a long pause, "And now that Glenn's gone...I think while you were babying me the whole time I was sick -"

"I wasn't babyin-"

Maggie cut her off with a look and a smile she was fighting to hold back, "You spoon fed me soup, Beth." Beth didn't exactly have an argument for that, and she couldn't help but giggle. Pretty soon the both of them were laughing, the loud kind that made her cheeks hurt and left her fighting for air. It took a while for it to wear off, but eventually Maggie let out a long sigh.

"I need to learn how to be okay by myself, Beth," she said sincerely, "I-I...I need to learn how to be okay without him."

There wasn't a breakdown this time, this wasn't her spiraling out. Beth bit her lip, suddenly feeling like she was the one who was going to cry.

She was getting better. She _wanted_ to get better.

"I'll still be in Atlanta, if you need me for anything -"

"I know Beth," Maggie nodded through a wide, tight smile, and teary eyes, "I know."

"I love you," Beth said, throwing her arms around Maggie's neck, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Bethy," Maggie whispered and her voice hitched, "You're still coming over for pizza night though. You got that?"

Beth nodded trying to blink the tears out of her eyes, she'd already cried too much today, and this was a good thing. This was such a good thing. She grinned, and Maggie grinned, and another laugh bubbled up from her chest as the tears spilled over anyways.

"Yeah, I got it."

* * *

><p>Beth seemed to be in an oddly good mood when he met her in the Morgue's parking lot. She'd seemed pretty out of it when she left the office, but now she wasn't exactly grinning or anything, but she looked content. He'd already been home about to drink a beer and pass out for the night when Mamet had called. Said he had something important.<p>

"Hey." He fell into stride with her as they walked through the doors, and headed for the elevator down to the basement.

"Hey." She smiled as the elevator door closed behind them, and he was trapped with the smell of coconuts. It was quiet for a moment as the elevator started to groan, and make its way down. "Thank you," she said suddenly.

He blinked, "What for?"

"You made dinner the other night, that was nice of you." Her eyes were practically sparkling as they met his, and he looked away.

"S'nothing."

"Three more." The hell was this girl going on about now? Sometimes she drove him crazy. She must've noticed the confusion on his face, because she clarified, "Remember? You owed me six nice things. You let me sleep at your place, you let me use your shower, and now you made me dinner. That's three, and you've got three more to go."

He laughed softly, shaking his head, "Girl you've stayed at my place more than six times."

"Yeah, but you already did that!" She laughed, "You gotta be original, Dixon!"

"It's been _a lot _more than six." Daryl argued, doing his best to play the grump redneck though he could feel himself smiling.

"Well...I might make an exception...if you let me stay a little bit longer some time." She looked up at him, he had no idea what she meant by that, and he had no idea why he suddenly felt like he was suffocating on coconuts.

"How long?" He asked suspiciously as the elevator jolted to a halt, and the doors opened.

"I dunno…" She started out into the hallway, "Indefinitely."

He blinked, trying to process that last bit. They were almost at the end of the hall, they had work to do no time to be talking about her...moving in with him….damn girl planned it like that didn't she?

"Daryl, please!" She begged, "I'll make it the fourth thing, and I'll be quiet, and I'll stay on the couch, and I'll make sure not to use your bodywash anymore and -"

"Okay."

"What?" She didn't look like she'd expected it to be that easy. Hell, he'd surprised himself. The last person he'd lived with was Merle, and that was because he was his brother, and frankly Daryl couldn't afford rent without him back then. Merle was an asshole of a roommate. Since when had he just invited people to live with him? Well...she wasn't just people.

"You can stay." He really hoped he didn't end up regretting those words.

"Thank you!" Beth suddenly stopped, turning and mashing herself up against his chest, arms snaking around his waist. She hadn't hugged him since that night with the moonshine, and to be fair they'd both been really drunk. He stiffened on instinct, but Beth didn't let go. She felt warm against him, fitting neatly against his body as he ducked his chin to rest on the top of her head, and brought a hand up to cup her elbow.

"S'nothing," he murmured into her hair, and she hugged him a little tighter.

An awkward cough came from the door into the lab, and he and Beth broke apart. Mamet didn't make any comments or faces, just turned around and headed back into the lab. Daryl wasn't going to say anything, but he was thankful for that. He was getting real tired of that shit...his eyes followed her bouncing ponytail as she followed Mamet into the lab...there was nothing between them.

"You got anything on the killers?" Daryl asked as they strode into the lab, Stookey was hunched over the microscope, frowning.

Mamet glanced at his boss, who was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing, "No...we uh, we don't."

"Then we're here 'cause…?" Daryl prompted.

"Potatoes." Stookey straightened up. The hell did he just say? "I found traces of a rare strain of potato embedded in the scratches on the victim's forehead."

"And?" Daryl was getting impatient with the scientists and their cryptic shit.

"There's only one farm in Georgia that grows these potatoes." Mamet pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "They're an hour and half out of Atlanta."

"The girls?" Beth asked, looking like she was about ready to run out of there and start driving. Daryl was already reaching for his phone, they needed to call Rick. He didn't know exactly what a cult of cannibals was capable of, but he figured they should call in SWAT to be on the safe side.

Milton nodded, "We think so."

* * *

><p>Beth was nervous. The last time she'd done something like this she'd nearly gotten stabbed. Sure she'd been mildly tipsy during that arrest, but it had also been one incredibly high drug addict and Daryl had been close. This time they were going to have to split up, each going with a different section of the SWAT team to search the farm, Rick splitting off on his own as well. She knew it was ridiculous to think she was safer with Daryl than five highly trained commandos with automatic rifles, but she was a creature of comfort.<p>

To her Daryl was about as comfortable as it got.

She frowned, staring at the back of the SWAT van they were following through the dark. About ten more minutes to go, technically, but the caravan was going a good fifteen miles per hour above the speed limit. They needed to get there before ten girls turned to nine.

"So you gonna tell me why you're gonna be my new roommate?" Daryl glanced at her.

She'd gotten the call to leave not long after her conversation with her sister, they hadn't exactly had time to talk about the subject in depth, but Beth understood. "Maggie needs some space I think." Daryl nodded, "I'll start looking for an apartment, I have enough money saved up."

"Stay as long as you like," Daryl said, "Ain't a bother to me."

"Than-" She was cut off as the phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen, Zach's face was smiling up at her. She wanted to ignore it, but she knew that was just going to cause more shit when she got back to Maggie's. Glancing at Daryl, she took a deep breath, and picked up.

"Hello?"

"Beth, we need to talk." Zach's voice came through, he didn't sound angry. He didn't sound happy either.

"Zach I'm at work." She kind of wondered how many times she'd have to tell him she was busy with work, before it would make it through that thick skull of his. She kind of wondered when she'd gotten so bitter about him.

"No, not now." Zach sighed, "Just...when will you be home?"

"I don't know," Beth said, fingering the zipper on her bulletproof vest, "I'm on my way to make an arrest."

"Do you have an estimate?" He was starting to get impatient, he always did have a thing for timeliness.

"No, Zach, I don't."

"Alright." He hung up, leaving her staring at the phone in confusion. Why the hell did he hang up? Was he going to wait up for her, were they going to talk in the morning? Was he just going to drop it? She sighed, slamming her head back into the headrest. It had been a long few days.

She could feel Daryl's eyes on her, but he didn't say anything. She was thankful for that. Right now she wanted to just take a moment, and focus on the job she had to do in...she glanced at the clock, less than five minutes now. She wasn't going to let this be like last time and almost get stabbed, she wasn't going to let herself be like Daryl and do something dumb enough to get shot. She was going to be smart about this, and she was going to find ten girls alive.

Daryl's brakes whined a bit as they turned down a little gravel drive. The headlights were flicked off, and her heart started to beat a little harder. There were lights on in the farm house, an old colonial style the reminded her disturbingly of her home. They'd been given satellite images of the property, and had a basic idea of the buildings around the farm. A couple of barns, some smaller sheds, the house.

Rick was going to take a team into the house, Daryl would take the three outbuildings to the west of the house, she had the two larger barns to the east. The caravan rolled to a stop, and she looked to Daryl. It was too dark to really see him, but she could tell her was looking at her too.

"Be careful, Greene." His deep voice was oddly comforting.

"You too, Dixon...don't get shot." She cracked a smile and he laughed softly. The SWATs were starting to get out, black shadows in the darkness, "C'mon we should go."

They shut their doors as quietly as possible, glanced at each other one last time before meeting up with their respective teams, drawing their guns, and starting off at a jog. She couldn't see the road ahead of her all that well, but she'd studied the map, and knew the little dirt track would run right up to the larger barn. Every single one of her senses was coming to life as they silently approached the bar. If they were in there, they didn't need them panicking and killing the girls while they tried to run.

It was hot out, and her bullet proof vest itched, but the adrenaline was starting to pulse as they gathered outside the barn door, and she lifted her hand in signal to wait. Ever so slowly she brought hand to the door and pulled.

Locked.

She glanced back, nodding to the two men carrying the battering ram, and raised three fingers in the air.

Two.

One.

Someone screamed, loud and sharp, and everyone froze. It wasn't coming from the main barn, but a bit farther down the drive in the smaller one. No one needed to say anything, or give orders. She took off running, they followed behind going as fast as possible when holding a very large gun. The closer they got the more apparent it was that there were lights on, gold spilling into black through the cracks in the wooden planks.

The scream came again, this time trailing off in a strangled sounding cry.

They didn't waste a single moment busting the door down, not even waiting to see if it was locked or not. Guns were raised, and the only thing on Beth's mind was the sobbing girl being held by her shirt collar. The Virgin Mary sparkled as it spun around her neck. The woman holding her was older, auburn hair unkempt, and a wild look in her eye.

There was a moment, just a moment, where everything froze. There was a knife in the air, and a panicked expression on the woman's face as she stared at the intruders. Then everything exploded, like taking a movie from pause to fast forward, and the knife came down.

Her first thought was that that girl was going to die. Her second was that she hadn't done anything.

There was a lot of blood soaking into the white of the girl's shirt. A shot rang out from behind her, and the woman fell, and then there was blood coming from her head too. Beth didn't let her gun drop as she ran forward. Nine girls were crying from the back of the barn, but otherwise there wasn't another living person in sight.

The SWATs were spreading out, and she was falling to her knees, "I'm here to help, okay?" Beth said, pressing her hands against the wound. She could hear more footsteps coming in the door, and recognized Daryl's twang. "It's gonna be alright, okay? You're gonna be alright."

The girl nodded stiffly, lips twisting as she cried. She couldn't have been more than seventeen.

"You're gonna be alright."

* * *

><p>The girls were all in the hospital now, severe dehydration and exposure after two weeks trapped in that barn. Families had been reunited, a lot of tears had been shed, and the girl who had been stabbed, Sarah, was in recovery. Daryl had helped her wash off all the blood, gently wiping at spatter off her face with a warm rag. She'd had to fight the urge to just lean into him, and close her eyes.<p>

God she was tired.

It was a happy ending. No one else died, ten families got their daughter's back, but for some reason she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Daryl had told her it wasn't her fault, anyone would've have hesitated (hell six SWAT members had too), it was a difficult shot to make. She was just frustrated. She'd could've done something, at the very least keep that girl from being stabbed...they still didn't have any leads on their killers.

The only one they had in custody was in a silver drawer down in Stookey's morgue. The dead weren't very good at talking.

She just wanted to take a shower, rinse off any blood Daryl had missed, and fall into bed. Seeing the lights on downstairs made her want nothing more than to get back in her car, drive to Daryl's, and tell him she was moving in early. She needed to face Zach though, no matter how tired she was.

So, she opened the front door, locked it behind her, and walked down the hall. Zach was in the arm chair again, absentmindedly watching reruns of Full House. They used to watch it together all the time, back when she was still in college. She couldn't remember the last time they'd done that. It was a long time before she left for Atlanta.

"Zach," she said quietly, and he looked up. She was pretty sure there was concern in his eyes when he saw her, but there was nerves too.

"Beth...we need to talk," he said, standing.

"Yeah," Beth's voice was soft, she was far too tired to be angry right now, "Yeah we do."

"I'm sorry," Zach met her eyes, he was being sincere for the first time since he'd come down here, "About this morning...I was out of line."

"Yeah, you were."

"It wasn't my place to say that….I just...it kind of feels like you're closer to this, this _guy _that you've only known for a couple months than you are to me!" He wasn't shouting at her exactly, but he'd always had issues keeping the volume down when he was upset.

"Dixon's my friend Zach...he's the only person I'm all that close to down here." She let out a short, sharp laugh, "And even then he doesn't talk all that much. I don't know...it's hard to meet people when you spend all your time working."

"And you spend all your time with him?" There was a resigned bitterness to his tone, and she met his gaze for just a second before slipping around him and sitting on the couch.

"Pretty much."

"You know you always could have talked to me." Zach's tone softened, "You could've called."

"I know Zach I was just -"

"Busy?" The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Yeah...busy." She took a deep breath, running her face through her hands. It was quiet for a long time, and she couldn't help the uneasy feeling that rose from her gut and into her chest.

"This isn't working anymore, is it?" He asked, though they both knew it wasn't a question. Their relationship had been buried with Glenn, and they'd seen it coming from the moment that Beth had stepped on the plane to Atlanta. They'd just been prolonging the inevitable.

Beth shook her head, "No, it isn't."

Zach took in a deep breath, "I'll call a cab, I can go to a hotel." Beth stood quickly, gesturing for him to sit down as she swallowed hard.

"No. No, you don't need to...I...I have somewhere I can go. Just get some sleep or something…"

"Beth…" He started, but she was already grabbing her purse and headed out the door. Apparently she was heading to Daryl's after all.

* * *

><p>The front door opened, which was concerning considering he was in bed, and hadn't invited anyone in. Cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door, he took the handgun from the bedside table, pulled back his covers, and silently made his way into the hall. The kitchen light was on. He lifted his gun, stalking down the hall. He could hear them. They were….they were in his fridge?<p>

What kind of robber went straight for the fridge?

Every muscle was tense as he rounded the corner, and saw...Beth. He lowered his gun, placing it on one of the end tables by the couch, and quietly crossed the living room to the kitchen.

"Greene?" He squinted his eyes against the light, "Greene, what the hell are you doin' here?"

Her shoulders shook with a hysterical sounding laugh, "Well I live here now don't I?" She pushed something out of the way on one of the fridge shelves, not looking back at him, "Where the hell do you keep the moonshine?"

"Don't got anymore," he said, watching her carefully. She turned around, and looked at him with glassy eyes. Had she been crying? He never knew how he was supposed to deal with this. Never knew where to start, so he stood there quietly watching, and hoping she'd start for him.

She did, throwing up her hands in exasperation, "Great!" The fridge slammed shut, "I can't even get drunk right!"

"I can't solve a case right, I can't save a girl from an old woman for godsake! There are still _cannibals _running around Atlanta!" She was ranting, a bitter bite behind her words as she stalked past him and into the living room, "My brother in law is dead, and the best answer I can give my sister is 'well it wasn't that guy'!"

Her voice was thick, and her shoulders were starting to shake again, but he didn't think she was laughing this time. He took a step closer. What the hell was he supposed to do? She was in the middle of his apartment, crying, and he was just standing there like an idiot.

"Zach broke up with me!" Her voice broke, and she let out a hitched little sob. His chest ached for her, and he decided that now wasn't the best time to question exactly why he cared. "And the best thing that happened to me this week?" She forced a giggle, "Was my sister kicking me out of the house!"

He took a step closer.

"Isn't that just hysterical?" She was crying even harder now. He wasn't Beth, he didn't know what to do when people were upset. Hell he didn't know what to do when _he _was upset. He'd never claimed to be Dr. Phil, and he didn't think there was a damn thing he could say right now that would make her feel better.

He didn't know what he was doing, so he just did what she would've done for him.

His arms slid easily around her waist, pulling her close. She still fit just right, her back molding to his chest as he dropped his chin to rest in the crook of her neck, "Beth," he murmured her name not having any other words to give her. She stopped crying for just a second, and everything was perfectly quiet.

And then the sobs came harder. She had a high pitched cry. It wasn't a full throated, wracking sob, but short hitching ones that came one after another. He'd done something wrong hadn't he? He could feel himself start stiffen as he pulled back.

He expected her to go lock herself in the bathroom or something, didn't know why she'd want to cry in front of him. Instead, a hand grabbed his wrist, keeping him close. He couldn't have walked away from her now if he wanted to, only holding her tighter as she twisted to throw her arms around his neck.

They stayed like that for a long time.

**Well that was a beast of a chapter. Sorry it took so long to get out, I wasn't even writing for half that time I was just procrastinating. Got the week off of school cause of snow though, so I sat down and made myself write this. Probably wouldn't have taken three days if I didn't get so distracted, but it's done now! **

**I hope you guys enjoyed it, and I can't wait to hear back from you!**


	7. Close

**So sorry for the long wait, like I had all the time in the world (I had two weeks off school for snow), I just had writers block. Then I got back to school, and actually had school, but here it is. **

**I've shortened the fic, I was looking back at the plans and chapter eight was useless so I split up the important plot points into this chapter and what was going to be chapter nine. So now the story will be nine chapters total with an epilogue at the end. **

**Thank you all so so so so much for the response I've been getting, reading your reviews here and your asks on tumblr always puts a smile on my face, like I can't even tell you how much it means to me that y'all like this. Special thanks to Amber for always being there to help me with this, and just for being awesome in general. And another to Emily, the shoulder holster is for you. **

**Episode Seven - Close **

Beth's alarm went off, and she pulled her blankets closer. She needed to get up, but the blankets were warm and Daryl's couch was soft. Yawning she stretched her legs and arched her back, if she didn't get up now she wasn't going to have time to shower. Phone silenced, and legs untangled from the sheets, she quietly padded down the hall to the bathroom.

She was about to turn on the water when she heard Daryl's door open across the hall. They hadn't been living together long, but she already felt like she settled in. Conditioner rinsed from her hair, she turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom. Daryl was already there, making a discernable effort not to look at her as they traded places.

So far it seemed as if they'd formed a routine. She got in the shower first, he started making breakfast. Then she got dressed, finished up breakfast by the time he was ready to go. They ate, they walked down stairs, hopped on the bike or in the truck, and left. Honestly, she was happy here. Other than one incident of oversleeping, apparently Maggie was doing well too. Everything had worked out for the best.

Thirty minutes later breakfast was on the table (toast, eggs, and some grape fruit she'd picked up at the grocery store), and all she had to do was find her shoes.

"Looks good," Daryl said as he sat down, hair still slightly damp. He started shoveling eggs onto his fork, they didn't have a lot of time to eat. It was already five thirty, and they needed to leave in ten minutes.

"You made most of it," she commented through a mouthful of toast.

"Yeah, s'why it looks good," he said with a wry smile, and she flicked a piece of egg at him. The more time she spent with him, the more she was coming to realize just how innately sarcastic he was. His humor was dry, but he was a good roommate, actually kind of better than Maggie, he was cleaner.

They didn't have long to eat breakfast, and as Daryl's phone started to buzz across the table, she had the sinking feeling that what little time they had was going to be cut short. She saw the name on the screen before he picked up, and knew she was right, it was Rick.

"What's up?" Daryl asked, pausing as Rick started talking. It was a long time before Daryl replied, he was listening carefully eyes flicking up to look at her every once in a while. "We'll be there in twenty."

"Murder?" She asked, taking her half finished plate towards the trash. Cold eggs wouldn't taste any good later.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, and she dumped them. He followed suit, and pretty soon they were tugging on shoes and strapping guns to belts and running out the door. She hadn't thought to check the weather today, and it was still too dark to really see out the window, so the rain was a bit of a surprise. They didn't have time to go back though, so mourning her hair, she dashed out into the street, Daryl on her heels.

"C'mon!" He waved her towards the parking deck, "We're taking the truck!"

They were practically soaked through by the time they made it to the dimly lit deck, it was surprisingly chilly, and she did her best to suppress a shiver, but it didn't work all that well. Daryl glanced down at her, concern in his eyes, and before she even had the chance to protest his jacket was off and around her shoulders. It was warm, and smelled like him, and right then she decided to ignore the part of her that wanted to insist she give it back.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, giving him a shy smile.

"Don't need you getting sick," he said, pulling the keys from his pocket.

"I'm not gonna get sick, Daryl," she brushed him off. He was turning out to be a bit of a worrywart, which was odd, because no one else seemed to think he was like that. Of course no one else was living with him.

"Uhuh," he muttered, unlocking the car and sliding into the drivers side, "That's why you look like a sheet, cause you ain't getting sick." She blinked, she wasn't that pale today was she?

"I feel fine." He just 'hmphed' in response as the engine roared to life, and the a/c started to blast. She pulled the jacket closer, getting a fresh wave of cedar as he flicked off the fans. The headlights and windshield wipers were turned on, and in comfortable silence they drove off into the rain. Warm, and wrapped up in Daryl's jacket, she could feel her eyes starting to grow heavy again and she leaned back against the headrest. They hadn't had time for coffee yet.

She could hear Daryl shifting in his seat, feel his gaze burning into her cheek from time to time. Opening one eye, just barely, she caught him with his thumb between his teeth, "What is it, Daryl?"

"Huh?"

"Did you want to say something?" She asked, sitting up. They were going to be there soon anyways. He looked genuinely surprised, and she couldn't help but smirk a little. She was figuring him out.

Apparently he'd decided to shake it off, "The case...It's, it might be a bit difficult for you."

"Daryl, last week I got a dismembered body dropped on my head, I think I can handle it." She could see the police lights flashing just up the street, a nice suburban neighborhood that seemed friendly. She hoped it wasn't kids, but she'd seen that before, hell that was her first case. He looked like he was about to say something, but they were pulling up to the curb and they had a job to do. She slipped out of the jacket and handed it to him.

"You don't wanna keep it?" He asked, glancing at the rain streaming down the windshield.

She laughed, "No, no I'm not giving them anymore ammunition."

He blinked, "Ammunition?"

"You know...I can't just walk around in your jacket. They'll think...well they already think -"

"That we're together?" He asked, and for some damnable reason her heart fluttered. She wasn't going to let her own emotions jump on the boat of people egging her towards something that could never happen. They were partners, and she'd only just broken up with Zach, and she was emotional and confused. He was Daryl, not her boyfriend….just Daryl.

"Yeah."

Those bright blue eyes were staring straight into her, and it was quiet except for the rain, "C'mon, Greene."

They ducked under the yellow tape, not needing to stop to check in with the officer on guard. It was just Gorman, he knew who they were. The garage was open, its white light shimmering over the wet driveway. Officers were milling about, and a young brunette woman was sobbing hysterically as Dawn tried to calm her.

"The body?" Beth asked Officer Bello, and they were pointed towards the garage. That's when she saw him, and suddenly she knew what Daryl had meant by this case would be hard.

The man was swinging ever so slightly in the breeze, suspended from the rafters by a length of rope. His toe kept brushing into his mercedes, tapping out a little beat each time he swayed back and forth. Daryl's hand brushed against hers, and she fought the urge to take it. She could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her gaze glued on the dead man.

"Hangings are always the worst huh?" Dawn asked, coming to stand next to them, "This one's a bitch too, been scouring the house for hours. All we've been able to figure out is that he didn't do it himself."

* * *

><p>"Oh we should totally go clubbing!" Amy squealed, grabbing Maggie and Beth's arms in excitement. The sisters both cringed, Amy had a tight grip. Beth's best friend hadn't flown back home with Zach, she'd decided to stay in Atlanta to fulfill her 'best friend duties' in the aftermath of the break up. Normally that would have entailed sleeping in the same bed, eating icecream, and watching rom-coms all night; but now she lived with Daryl, so Amy had been crashing with Andrea.<p>

"No." The sisters spoke at the same time.

"Oh come one it would be fun!" Amy protested.

"I have work," Beth said, though she wasn't sure if she would've wanted to go clubbing in the first place. She'd just broken up with Zach, and random sweaty guys just didn't sound appealing to her.

"My husband is dead," Maggie said, deadpan, and Amy and Beth both stiffened for a moment. Until they realized Maggie was smiling, she'd made a joke. A dark, dry, sarcastic joke, but it was a joke. Glenn would've been proud of her, she really was starting to get better.

And that was why she'd been worried to talk about work around Maggie the past few days. Whoever killed Glenn had killed again, Beth was sure of it, and she didn't want to see Maggie spiral back down in anger and obsession. Her sister needed to move on. If Beth caught the guy, she'd tell her, but right now she was so close - she didn't want her sister to have to deal with another blow like Aziza.

"Fine," Amy grumbled, "No clubs….we could go see a movie?"

"I still have to be at work in the morning," Beth said.

"I never said it had to be a late movie." Amy hitched her bags up higher on her arms, they'd been shopping most of the afternoon - deciding to take advantage of Beth's day off - and Amy had always been fond of spending money. Dentistry made a good bit more than catching murderers did.

She honestly wasn't sure how she was going to find a decent apartment she could afford right now, Daryl's wasn't bad, but he had seven years of seniority and raises bolstering his salary. She would be lucky if she could rent a closet in the city, and she really didn't want to suffer the same commute Rick did every morning. The fact that she had Daryl right now was a Godsend...she didn't like the look of the closets she'd found on craigslist so far.

"It's starting to get a bit late," Maggie commented, "Maybe we could swing by somewhere, grab some dinner."

"I have one more thing I need," Beth said, taking a left at the crosswalk.

"Bethy, I'm tired of walking," Maggie whined.

"It won't take long," Beth brushed her off, "It's just a couple blocks."

Maggie grumbled for all two of those blocks, something about not wearing the right shoes for this. There was a cute little Greek place not far from here, Maggie would shut up as soon as she got her hands on a gyro. Beth needed to do this.

Neither one questioned why she needed to go into a gun store, she was a cop, and as far as they were concerned she could've needed anything from a cleaning kit to a new glock. However, they did start to look a big confused when she began going through a rack of leather shoulder holsters - men's shoulder holsters to be specific.

"Beth…" Maggie started, "You sure those are gonna fit you?"

"It's not for me," Beth said, thumbing through the different colors of leather. She thought one of the nice dark brown ones would suit him, but Maggie did have a point about size...his shoulders were ridiculously broad. Picking out one that looked like it could fit him, she took it down off the rack. She'd just have to keep the receipt, he could always return it.

"Oh," Amy smiled, "So this is for Daryl."

Beth pushed her shoulder, "Don't say it like that."

"Like what?" Amy asked coyly, and Maggie started giggling. It was all Beth could do not to glare at them.

"Like we're together or something," Beth didn't know how to deal with everyone's insinuations anymore, cause for some reason they'd made butterflies start flipping circles in her stomach. So maybe she did have a crush on Daryl, but it was a crush, it was silly and unreciprocated and against regulation. It didn't mean anything. "This is just...just a thank you gift for letting me stay with him."

"Uh-huh," Amy didn't sound like she believed her.

* * *

><p>The fact that dead bodies were always so pale had been disconcerting, but slowly she'd gotten used to it. She just avoided looking at the point where the pale skin turned dark black with pooling blood. It was just the little details that continued to make her grimace. The blood in his back; the thick, straight bruise around his neck; the heavy ones across his cheek... the scrawling cursive tattoo on his ribs that said his wife's name - Lena. Little details that made the bodies more than just pale corpses on the table.<p>

"It was definitely murder," Stookey said, pulling on his gloves as he walked around the body - Christopher McKinley - and traced latex fingers across his bruised throat, "He was strangled before he was hung, if this were suicide the contusions on his neck would be v shaped, not straight."

"We got any prints?" Daryl asked, "Guy would've had to man handle him up into the noose, wouldn't he?"

"No," Stookey shook his head, looking more excited than anything as he moved around to Christopher's head, "but, if you look here…" he plucked something from the back of the man's neck and held it up for them to see.

"That hair?" Daryl asked, squinting.

"No, no it's a fiber, from a glove. The murderer was wearing gloves." Stookey grinned.

"Well, what does that tell us?" Beth's brow furrowed.

"Our murderer is fan of polyester blends," Eugene piped up from his station at the back, not looking up from his microscope.

"That sure does narrow it down…" Beth muttered, glaring at that one black thread. Everything itched, crawling under her skin as she tried not to show her frustration. They were close, they were so so close to finding him. The man who had thrown her life upside down, who had destroyed Maggie's, and now a girl named Lena McKinley.

"So, what you're sayin' is we ain't got shit?" Daryl asked, looking almost as tired as her.

Stookey took a deep breath, grin faltering a bit, "Yep."

"Great," Daryl growled.

Beth took a deep breath, she just needed to keep a clear head on this. She'd find the killer, she just had to keep looking.

"So where's Mamet?" She asked, trying to put her mind to something that wasn't the overwhelming frustration.

"At home." Eugene sounded rather bitter.

Stookey glanced down at the body on the table, "He left right about when this guy came in, said his stomach was bothering him." Stookey shook his head, pulling his gloves off, "Poor guy doesn't handle stress well."

"The hell's he stressed for?" Daryl asked, "Just another body."

"Well I thought he just had a bug -" Stookey started, but Porter cut him off.

"It's stress, he's doing the nail picking thing again."

* * *

><p>Beth wasn't exactly sure why she felt like she needed to spend her lunch break on Milton Mamet, but here she was, parking Daryl's truck in front of the pale yellow apartment complex. She liked Milton, he was awkward, but he was sweet. Stomach flu or otherwise, she oddly felt worried about him. Daryl said she was nuts, and Milton wasn't going to want her hanging around while he puked his guts out, but she thought she should say hi. Just check if he needed anything - he lived alone after all.<p>

He'd let her borrow his truck anyways, she almost never took her car to work anymore. Locking the rusty old door behind her, she set off down the pathway to the E building. She'd never been to Milton's place before, but she knew his address. In fact after the arm incident she'd forced both Mamet and Porter to give her their addresses. She figured if anything like that happened again, she should be able to get revenge.

Milton's apartment was E6, six flights of stairs up to his door. Six long flights, but she made it...she was slightly out of breath, and questioning the italian hoagie she bought for lunch, but she made it. With a bright smile she knocked, and waited as someone rustled about on the other side of the door.

"Beth?" He asked as the door slid open, "Beth? What are you doing here?"

"Stookey said you were sick, thought I'd stop by...see if you needed anything." It was weird though, because he didn't really seem like he needed anything, he didn't even seem sick at all. A little pale maybe, but that wasn't exactly a big change.

"Oh...oh I'm - I'll, I'll be okay...thank you." He moved to close the door.

"Are you sure?" Beth pressed.

"I'm -"

"Milton?" Someone called from inside, "Milton, who's at the door?"

Beth's brow furrowed, "Do you have a girl over?" She was going to have to tell Daryl about this, Milton Mamet cut work to be with a woman. Oh gosh, he'd die laughing. It wasn't even the fact that Milton had a girlfriend that was amusing, it was that he felt the need to skip work. He spent more time with the dead than the living.

"N-Yes!" He seemed kind of conflicted on the matter, "Yes, I do!"

"So you have a girlfriend?" Beth broke out into a brilliant grin. She was happy for him, really, kind of amused by how awkward he was about it, but happy for him. Milton seemed to only be getting paler, and she couldn't help but laugh, "Don't worry I won't tell Stookey."

"Thank you," Milton mumbled, slowly shutting the door.

Daryl was going to love this.

* * *

><p>He took a long sip of his beer, enjoying the warm sensation spreading out from his belly. Maybe he should've been keeping a clear head, they were at home, but they were still going over evidence. Still, it had been a long day, and he was tired. He was only having one, one would hardly get him tipsy.<p>

"There's still Chinese food in the fridge!" Beth called from the kitchen.

"That's fine!" He called back, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. She slid back into the room, stocking clad feet easily sliding across the hardwood as she balanced a bunch of white cartons in her arms. She watched them intently, as if willing them to stay put. His lips quirked up, she was cute.

They hadn't bothered to take off their work clothes, just loosened them. Jackets were sprawled across the armchair, shoes piled at the door, his tie loosened, the top buttons of her blouse undone. She crouched down, letting the cartons settle on the coffee table without kung pao chicken getting everywhere, and then she looked up at him and smiled, and he could swear the beer started to burn like liquor in his gut.

_Not good, Dixon, _he scolded himself, and tried to think about the lude comments Merle would make. Or worse, the look on Rick's face if he found out he was fraternizing with his partner. He kind of wondered when the question had switched from if he even liked Beth Greene, to if he could make himself stop looking at her. Damn, he was really starting to regret that beer.

"So?" She asked, flopping down next to him, and the fire burned again as he got a fresh wave of coconut, "What've we got?"

"Shit," he grumbled, grabbing for the sweet and sour chicken as he used the other hand to pull up some files on his laptop. She was close, their thighs and arms pressed together. Christopher McKinley's face popped up on the screen, and his breath caught as her chin nestled into the crook of his neck as she tried to get a better look. He could feel her breath against his throat, and he swallowed hard.

Shouldn't have had that beer.

"Pulled some info on our victim," he said, scrolling through the pages, "but still don't know a damn thing about the murder."

"Just like Glenn…" She said softly, and he turned his head as much as he could without pressing his cheek to her face. He couldn't really see her face, but he could guess what expression was on it. Glenn had been family, she wanted to find his killer. He had a feeling Glenn had been looking for his killer before it got him strung from the ceiling...he hated to say it, but he would be okay with letting the guy go forever if it meant he didn't have to find Beth swinging in his bedroom one day.

"This guy was an official," Daryl said, "Government stuff. For the most part looks like he took care of finances for The Governor's office, other shit up in the capitol building."

"So what got him killed?" She asked, and he shrugged.

"Dunno, money'd be a good answer. Lotta people will do a lotta shit for money."

"So, what? We're down to half the politicians in the state?" She sounded like she didn't even know where to start, neither did he.

"Yeah," he grumbled, "Maybe some feds too, big corporations, campaign donors."

"Give me that," she said suddenly, fingers warm against his as she took the beer from him, and drank, "I'm gonna need this."

He let out a short bark of laughter as she settled back against him. He could feel every little shift of her body as she got comfortable, as she brought a hand down to the computer on his lap, as she left that hand burning against his stomach. _You're in some deep shit, Dixon. _He kept himself in check, not bringing his arm up to cradle her shoulders, or resting his head against hers as much as he wanted to. She stayed like that as they talked over the case, touching him with such nonchalance - she couldn't know what it was doing to him.

Maybe what everyone was saying about them was right, at least on his end, but there was no way in hell he was gonna let them know it. Nothing could happen between him and Beth Greene.

"Hey," she slapped his chest lightly, "Almost forgot!" She jumped up, leaving his right side feeling awfully cold, "I got you something while I was out yesterday!" She slipped and slid her way across the hardwood, giggling, and he couldn't help but smile at her. She disappeared into the kitchen, and a few seconds later was back carrying a gift bag, "I hid it under the sink." She sounded proud of herself as she sock skated up to him and set in his lap.

"The hell'd you get me a present for?" He asked softly.

She shrugged, "Dunno, you're kinda letting me live here. Figured I'd get you something." He looked at her long and hard, he'd be damned if he ever figured this girl out, "Go on!" She grinned, "Open it."

Desperately hoping his ears wouldn't turn pink or some shit, he gently pushed aside the tissue paper, and pulled out the dark leather straps. His brow furrowed as he looked at it, was that a -

"It's a shoulder holster," she said, smiling, "Here, get up." She jumped to her feet, dragging him along with her. He blinked as she took the gift from his hands, and leapt up onto the table behind him, careful not to crush their dinner. "I hope it fits right, I didn't have your measurements, and your shoulders are so broad I wasn't even sure they'd have something in your size."

She thought his shoulders were broad?

He suppressed a shiver as her hands brushed against his shoulder blades, his arms, his back, helping him slip into the leather. She slid her first two fingers under the straps, running them up and down his back, and he felt fire shoot up his spine. He knew it was the beer, but he was having a hard time not turning around and grabbing her, pulling her close. He couldn't do that though.

"How's it feel?" She asked, "Too tight?"

"Nah, it's good," he managed to get out through a tightening throat, he could feel his heart in his chest. _Control yourself, Dixon. _

Her arms slid over his shoulders, chin resting on the top of his head as she hugged him from above.

"Good," he could hear the smile in her voice, and he almost regretted that she pulled away from him, stepping off the table. He let out a breath, it was for the best. He didn't need to be getting himself involved with Beth Greene. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to reach out to her, pull her to him...he needed to stop drinking when she was in the house.

The buzz of his phone in his pocket was almost a blessing, "Dixon," he answered it, watching Beth struggle with her noodles.

"Daryl, it's Rick….we've got Aziza."

* * *

><p>Beth was getting frustrated. It was late, and they'd been at this for hours. It didn't matter what they did or said, how high Daryl raised his voice, or how cold his stare was - Aziza didn't break. He didn't move, didn't flinch, hardly even looked at them, and he certainly didn't talk.<p>

From reports she knew Aziza was a hit man. They'd managed to find who hired him for the Dolgen brothers, and that bastard was currently walking around on bail till his trial came up in a few months. Still, there were three other bodies sitting in the morgue who hadn't found justice yet. John O'Connell, Stacy Mayer, Marissa Compton - a drug runner, a secretary, and a watchdog. She didn't know if they were connected, if there was any way they could be connected, but if they weren't that meant there were three more people she needed to put behind bars.

"We can offer you a settlement," Beth said, "A gentler sentence, avoid the death penalty."

Aziza didn't respond.

"We just need names," Beth continued, watching him intently. Still, he didn't move an inch. Just three people, sitting quietly in a room as they waited for words that would never be spoken. Aziza wasn't going to crack.

There was a knock on the door, and Beth and Daryl looked up. She grimaced a little bit, she didn't have the slightest clue why, but she'd been feeling kind of sore today. She had chalked it up to sleeping weird, but it hadn't been going away. Karen peeked her head in through the door, not paying a bit of mind to Aziza.

"Beth?" She asked, "Can I borrow you?"

Beth glanced at Daryl and he nodded, "I'll be fine here."

"What's up?" Beth asked as she closed the door behind her, leaving Daryl alone with Aziza. Karen didn't pull her out of interrogations often, but when she did she usually had something good. Case solving good, and Beth couldn't be happier. She wanted to be done with this man for good.

"We got Aziza's computer."

"Anything useful?" She asked as they headed towards the elevator.

"He kept everything pretty clean, but I managed to pull back some emails," Karen said as the doors slid shut behind them, "I don't have time to look through them, and they're pretty heavily encrypted, but I thought you might find something useful."

"Since when do you not have time to play with computers?" Beth asked with a giggle.

"It's me and Tyreese's anniversary," Karen said, smiling, "He's taking me out to dinner, already got the kids having a sleepover at grandma's, I thought I heard something about a pinot de grigio in the cabinet. "

"Mmm," Beth moaned, "I haven't had a good wine in a week now. All Daryl keeps in the house is beer."

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, "Really? I always pegged him for like one of those guys who had a glass of dry scotch every night or something."

Beth giggled, deciding she shouldn't tell Karen about the moonshine,"He has some whiskey I think, but it hasn't been opened yet...still not quite wine."

They closed the door to the tech lab behind them, and Karen lead her over to Aziza's laptop, opening it up. The home screen was generic, just the normal green hill and blue sky. There was nothing personal on it from the looks of it, he kept things very business oriented. He was the real deal when it came to assassins, and he was good at not getting caught.

"I can't let you take the computer from the lab, but I'll print these off before you go," Karen said, pulling up the emails.

"Thanks," Beth smiled, "You and Tyreese have fun, alright?"

"Oh we will," Karen smiled suggestively, and Beth rolled her eyes as the first sheet whirred out of the printer. Karen grabbed her keys and waved goodbye, slipping out the door, and leaving Beth to wait for a well over a hundred page print job to finish. She stood, watching nameless email after nameless email shoot out into the tray.

One name caught her eye, and she jumped as it was quickly covered in more and more sheets of paper.

Glenn Rhee. He'd gotten an email about Glenn Rhee.

* * *

><p>Beth had looked on edge when he finally gave up with Aziza, meeting her in her office. She'd had a stack of papers in hand, reading intently. She'd been coughing too...he'd noticed she'd been kind of weezy earlier, pale, but now he was sure she was starting to get sick. He'd been worried when he left her on the couch, and headed off to bed.<p>

Now listening to yet another hacking cough, he gave into the nagging feeling that told him to go check on her. He'd expected to find her curled up on the couch trying to sleep, they had work in the morning, but when he opened the door he was surprised to see the light was on.

"Beth?" He called quietly, stepping out into the living room. She was on the couch, a feverish sheen to her eyes as she glanced up at him, and back down to that stack of papers. She coughed again, tiny frame shaking, and he shook his head. The girl had gotten sick fast...she needed to be sleeping not working. "Beth, you need to go to bed."

"I can't." Her voice was hoarse from coughing. With a sigh she turned the page, not giving him a second thought.

"Beth." He tried to sound somewhat threatening, but he was sure he just sounded like a worried hen. She didn't look good.

"I can't!" She insisted, "I have to keep -" she yawned, "I have to keep reading." Slowly, he approached the couch, and bent down to slide the papers from her hands. She held firm, not letting go, "You don't understand!" She whined, yanking them back towards her chest.

If the Greene sisters were anything alike when they were sick, he could only assume why Beth had been so annoyed with Maggie that whole week. He cringed as it dawned on him he was going to have to deal with it now.

"Karen gave these to me!" She said, though he still didn't have a damn clue as to what _these _were.

"Beth you need to sleep."

"No!" She jumped up suddenly, letting the papers fall to the cushions, "Don't you get it? I'm close! I'm so close!" She coughed a few times, and he stood, kind of worried she'd topple over or something, "The emails, they're there, they're all there! John, Stacy, Marrissa, their killers all emailed him! McKinley, Glenn! It's all right there I just...I just…" She coughed and swayed, and he rushed forward wrapping his arms under hers just as she stumbled back.

"Alright," he murmured, "C'mon, up we go."

She protested, but he ignored her, hooking an arm under her knees and lifting her off her feet. She was warm against his chest, wiggling and kicking, but warm.

"Daryl! Daryl put me down!" Her voice was tired, and she didn't sound like she really meant it - struggling just a bit more as he carried her off down the hall. It didn't take long for her to give up, growing heavier in his arms as she dropped her forehead to rest against his neck. She was sick, needed a decent bed. Wouldn't kill him to take the couch for a few nights.

He had to kick open his door before he laid her down in his spot on the bed, and tucked her in. The fevered light had been replaced by a slow burn, she looked tired as her chest heaved with another bout of coughs. He hated to leave her alone right now, but what else could he do?

Trying to ease his own worries he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. He frowned, she was burning up. Cursing himself for not owning a thermometer (he almost never got sick), he stood up.

"Daryl -" she moaned, and then mumbled something unintelligible.

"Be right back, Greene," he said, "Gonna go find you some Tylenol."

A few minutes later he was back with a glass of water and a couple little red pills. She mumbled something again, and he couldn't help but smile a little. She was cute, he was worried she was going to keel over or something, but she was cute. He helped her sit up, one hand splayed across her back as he handed her the pain killers. She took them, and he set the glass down, and stood up.

The couch wouldn't be half bad, he'd bought it to be comfortable with Merle in mind. His brother had had a habit of crashing with him when he wasn't in jail.

"Daryl," she muttered his name again, and he paused, watching her carefully, "Daryl," she said his name again and then something else he couldn't make out. He blinked as she reached a hand out, fingers catching in his sweat pants, "Don't go."

He laughed softly, "Where the hell you want me to stay, Greene?"

"Here." She was dead serious, "Maggie always slept with me when I was sick."

"I ain't Maggie." He didn't need to be sleeping with Beth Greene, already had enough problems as it was. Already couldn't get her out of his head, already was smelling coconuts everywhere he went. He didn't need to go and crawl into bed with her too.

"Daryl, please," she groaned, looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes, still bright with fever. He couldn't say no to her.

"Scooch," he grumbled, pulling up the covers and sliding in next to her. He could do this, it wouldn't be bad or anything. He was just sleeping next to her, that was it, just two adults sharing a bed. That small sense of false ease was shattered as she rolled over, pressing her nose into his chest, little fingers gripping his shirt.

He could feel fire on his skin in every place their bodies met, his leg going up next as her shin pressed against his.

"Thank you," she whispered, nuzzling closer to his chest, "Daryl." His heart beat harder as she said his name, and he just prayed she was too out of it to notice the thumping right next to her head. Gingerly, not even knowing why he was letting himself do it, he slid an arm around her waist holding her to him.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

* * *

><p>Her vision was blurry when she woke, and her head was pounding, and despite the warmth of arms around her she was cold. It took a moment for it to register that Daryl's chest was pressed against her back, soft breath tickling down her neck, nose in her hair, arm around her waist. I took another moment for it register that she liked it. He felt warm, and solid, and she felt like she could lean into him and fall back asleep and everything would be fine.<p>

A cough shook her body, and he groaned, chest rumbling against her as shifted. She didn't want to wake him, so trying to hold back the itch in her throat, she gently pulled his arms from around her and got out of bed as quietly as she could. He stirred, but he didn't wake, and she sighed in relief.

There was a bottle of Nyquil on the end table, one that hadn't been there when Daryl carried her in here. He must've broken down and made her take it in the night, she smiled softly, she couldn't even remember. Everything hurt as she dragged herself into the bathroom, suddenly feeling even heavier than before.

Maybe she should've tried to find the Dayquil, instead.

She just wanted to get in the shower, turn it on as hot as she could, and hope the steam would clear her out a bit. The water was hot, didn't do much for the headache, but her muscles started to relax and the shivers began to fade. Her eyelids were drooping farther and farther though as she slowly lowered herself to the ground, maybe she'd just sit in the shower today.

Ten minutes later she turned off the water, but she didn't stand. It was warm in behind the curtain, she didn't want to feel the cold air, or quite frankly stand up. Instead she closed her eyes. It was only for a minute, she could've sworn it was only for a minute.

Somehow though, the shower curtain opened, and she wasn't the one opening it. She screamed suddenly very awake as she scrambled to cover herself. Daryl yelled jumping back, stumbling over his pile of clothes, and that's when she saw them. In all the time she'd been working with Daryl, been staying with Daryl, living with him, she'd almost never seen him without a shirt on. She'd certainly never seen his back.

Scars, thick, straight, meticulous scars. The kind you didn't get from a bad run in with your neighbor's dog, they were old too - one partially covered by the demons on his back. She only saw them for a second, just long enough to get an idea about how they'd gotten there, before he whipped around. There was a burning in his eyes she hadn't seen since the night they'd gotten drunk on moonshine.

"Get out!" She struggled to stand, not even thinking about the fact that they were both naked as he roared, "Get out!"

It didn't take long for her to slam the door behind her.

* * *

><p>She'd seen them. She'd seen his scars. Trying not to growl he turned on the shower with a harsh tug, almost grateful that all the hot water was gone. Everything was burning, he could feel the flush that crept from his cheeks down his neck. Groaning he let the freezing water pelt over his scars, and leaned into the wet tiles of the wall.<p>

He shouldn't be angry at her, he wasn't angry at her...he knew that. It wasn't about her. It was about the marks his father had left him, the part of his past that he hadn't told anyone, that, if she had half a brain, she now knew. He wanted to yell, he wanted to throw his fist against the wall, he wanted to kick something. He couldn't though, cause then she'd hear him, and it would be an even bigger deal than he'd already made of it.

Or worse he'd fall and she'd have to come pull him out of the shower naked, scars and all. A bitter smile twisted up at the absurdity of it.

He hadn't taken the time to look at her eyes, it was the worst part. The part he didn't want to see...pity. Cloying questions, and simpered sympathies, and those goddamn blue eyes looking at him like he needed to be fixed or some shit. He already had Dale picking his head apart twice a month, he didn't need her doing it too.

He only stayed in as long as he needed to, shutting off the water wrapping a towel around his waist, and stalking across the hall into the bedroom. He could hear her in the kitchen, really he didn't think she should be up at all, but there was no way in hell he was going to go tell her that right now. Instead he started pulling on his pants, trying to keep his head on straight, trying to keep his head empty.

He didn't want to be thinking about her, or his old man, or anything. Suddenly he was snapped back as something crashed in the kitchen.

He didn't even think about putting on a shirt as he dashed out into the hall, socks slipping on hardwood, "Beth!" He saw her feet sticking out on the other side of the island, and it was seconds before he was sliding to his knees next to her, "Beth." There was milk and cereal seeping over the tiles, her shirt soaked through.

"I'm okay," she mumbled, and without really thinking he found one hand holding her waist, the other going to cradle a cheek. It was bright red, she must have hit it when she fell, "Daryl, I'm fine...just got dizzy."

"You ain't goin' to work today." He stated as he helped her to her feet, not letting go of her waist. He kept double checking that she was fine, and for the most part it seemed like she was. Bit of a bruise was going to form on her cheek, and it looked like she was favoring her ankle, but she was fine. Since when did he get so worried about everything? Since when did he get so worried about her?

It wasn't until after he'd reassured himself she was fine that he realized he'd never put on a shirt, that his back and everything else was sitting in the open. He didn't care if she'd already seen them, didn't mean he wanted her seeing them again. So instead he made damn sure she only saw the front side of him.

"Daryl, I have to go to work!" She protested, staring hopelessly at the milk on the floor, "I can't just -"

"Yes you can," he said firmly, didn't need this happening to her in the office. Sure as hell didn't need it happening out in the field. The fever was getting to her, making it hard for her to balance, he wasn't going to be there to catch her and pick her up every time.

"Daryl -"

"You're stayin home, Beth," he said, quickly shooting her down.

"You can't make me." She stuck out her chin stubbornly.

"I can not let you on the bike." Hell she'd probably slip off the back and into the street the way she was looking right now.

"I have a car," she said, a self satisfied smirk spreading on her lips...he'd been giving her rides so much he almost forgot she owned that thing, "And just cause I'm not at work doesn't mean I won't have to stand, just means I'll be alone. What if I fall and can't get up?"

He'd almost gotten pissed, but instead he shook his head, trying not to laugh, "This ain't a damn life alert commercial, girl."

"Daryl, please!" She begged, voice thick and nasally, "I don't want to drive myself right now."

"Fine," he grumbled, "but you're keepin' your office door open ya hear? And take some damn Tylenol." He placed a hand on her forehead, and felt his own breath catch at those big blue eyes meeting his. Couldn't keep doing shit like this, "You're burnin' up," he murmured.

"I'll be fine Daryl," she smiled sleepily at him, eyes a bit hazy as she slid past him, and he quickly turned to keep his back in the corner, away from sympathetic blue eyes. Maybe it was the fever, but she hadn't been treating him like some sad piece of shit.

"You better be." Didn't need the shit scared out of him again today.

* * *

><p>She'd gotten up the courage to ask Daryl if he wanted to talk, watching him cautiously. He'd blown up that morning in the bathroom, if she'd guessed right about what caused the scars on his back he had good reason to. She'd gotten a response, which was more than she'd expected, still no answer, but he'd bothered to at least tell her 'no.'<p>

She hadn't pushed it further, if he wanted to tell her he'd tell her.

At least he wasn't mad at her, his concern for her health had outweighed his temper. She almost wished she'd taken his advice, stayed home, slept. She needed to be in the office today though, needed to be making some sort of progress with those emails. She was close, she was so close she could taste it.

She glanced across the hall at Daryl, scowling at his laptop, which was honestly not unexpected.

Those emails were the biggest lead she'd had for Glenn's case, for the three remaining bodies from the factory, for Christopher McKinley it was all right there if she could just figure out who'd been sending the emails. In late March someone had contacted Aziza asking him to take out Glenn Rhee, Aziza had passed it on to another unknown. He'd done the same with Christopher, and if the style of murder said anything it was the same guy.

She glowered at the stack of emails in front of her, whoever had sent Glenn and Christopher to Aziza had sent him John, Stacey, and Marissa. Aziza had actually taken those jobs, but she still had no idea who'd given it to him.

So, ignoring the pounding in her head she started to go through the rest of Aziza's emails, one by one. Maybe she'd get a name, a hint, just some little slip up. Maybe she'd find leads on another victim, just that missing link that would tie them altogether… A drug's unit officer, a secretary, a drug runner, a watchdog, and a financier for the capitol building.

She just needed to solve this, and then she could go home, and sleep all she wanted in a nice soft bed that smelled like cedar. She laughed shortly, yeah, if she could just solve five murders at once she could go home.

"Knock knock." A musical voice came from the doorway, it was Lori, holding two plastic bags in one hand and a thermos in the other. Daryl was watching with an amused look on his face.

"Lori," Beth croaked, managing a smile.

"Oh dear! You really are sick!" Lori rushed in, setting the bags up on the table.

"How -" Beth started to ask, somewhere in the background Daryl laughed.

"Oh Rick mentioned it sounded like you had a cough this morning, so I thought I'd just run by CVS get you a few things," Lori said, rifling through the bags.

"Lori, you you didn't have to -"

"Oh don't be silly it's nothing." Lori waved her off, pulling out a box of Kleenex, "Tissues, throat spray - I thought if you had a cough, you might have a sore throat, and Lord knows those are just a bother - Mucinex…" She placed the box on the table, "You aren't allergic are you?" Beth only just had time to shake her head before Lori kept going, "Cough drops." She hefted the bag up and slammed it on the table.

Beth blinked, trying to process...anything.

"I wasn't sure how many you needed, so I just got the big bag." Lori grabbed the empty

CVS bags and tossed them in the trash.

"That's two hundred cough drops," Beth commented. She'd heard stories about Lori's 'Mom Mode' but she'd thought Martinez had been exaggerating.

"Yeah," Lori said like it was a normal thing for someone to just carry around in their purse or something, "Like I said, Rick mentioned you had a cough...Oh!" She set the thermos in front of Beth, "I made some chicken soup last night, Carl's got a bug too, so I just thought I'd heat some up for you."

"Th-thank you...really," Beth said, trying very hard not to laugh out of some weird mixture of confusion and gratitude, "You didn't have to do this."

"Oh it's nothing dear," Lori closed the office door, and plopped down in the chair in front of her, pulling out her own lunch. "Do you mind if I eat with you? I was going to have lunch with Rick, but he got called out on some big arrest."

"No, no that's fine," Beth said, honestly not minding the company. She liked Lori, and the last few days she'd spent the greater majority of her time around Daryl. It was nice to just hang out with a girl every once in a while, or to be fair a person who you didn't have to drag a conversation out of half the time.

"So, other than hacking out a lung, how've things been going?" Lori asked, "Heard you and Daryl moved in together?" She was smiling that smile, the one she'd had when she was talking about setting Daryl up with her friends...oh no...not her too? Did everyone in Atlanta think she and Daryl were sleeping together? Well….technically they had slept together but they weren't...sleeping together.

"You know...Daryl's Daryl…"

"Temper?" Lori asked knowingly.

Beth thought back on that morning, it was a justified temper then, sure, but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd snapped at her. She didn't think it'd be the last either, "A little bit," she smiled bashfully and Lori nodded.

"Well you haven't let him get to you before, don't start now." She took a bite of her sandwich as Beth opened up the soup, it smelled delicious.

"Don't worry." Beth smiled, the soup tasted just as good as it smelled.

"He's prickly, had a hard life, but he's a sweetie - goes to the ends of the earth for the people he cares about," Lori said, shaking her sandwich at Beth, "And I think you're one of those people now. Don't think he'd put up with you sneezing on his couch if you weren't." Beth laughed, the grin quickly deteriorating into coughs. Lori pushed the massive bag towards her, "Cough drop?"

Beth took one. "Goodness Lori, he's a person not a car. You don't need to sell him to me, I'm not going anywhere."

"Just making sure," Lori smiled, "You're good for him."

* * *

><p>She was looking better than she had the day before, and the color in her cheeks seemed to be natural instead of flush from the fever. He'd convinced her to stay home anyways, Tyreese and Martinez had been plotting her death in the break room...no one had been very happy about all the coughing. She'd gotten up at the same time as him though, probably woke up when she heard him get in the shower.<p>

He'd taken the couch last night, though a lot of him wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with her. He told himself it was because the bed had more leg room. The shower had been hot for once, and when he'd gotten out - remembering a shirt to wear out of the bathroom this time - he'd found her curled up in blankets on the couch with those damn emails again.

He shook his head, she was supposed to be resting. He didn't say anything though, instead going into the kitchen and looking for something for breakfast. Eggs and bacon were probably a no for her, with all her coughing her throat had to hurt like a bitch. Instead he pulled down an old can of Campbell's chicken noodle, and put it in the microwave while he poured himself some cereal.

No point in bothering with hot breakfast, it was just him eating it after all.

The microwave beeped just as he was putting the milk back in the fridge, and pretty soon he was carrying the two bowls out to the living room. She smiled when she saw him, setting the emails aside as she eagerly took the soup out of his hand.

"Thank you," she said, taking a sip of the broth.

"S'nothin'," he mumbled, taking bite of his cereal, "Just from a can."

"Still, thank you."

They ate in comfortable silence for awhile, Beth all huddled in her blankets with a soft smile on her face. He always pegged her as a Progresso girl, but apparently Campbell's worked just fine too. Which worked for him, Progresso was expensive shit, she wanted it she could go buy it herself. He glanced up at her, trying to ignore the 'need more legroom' feelings.

"So, what'cha been workin on?" He asked, nodding towards the emails. He never had gotten a clear answer.

"Aziza's email records," Beth said through a mouthful of noodle.

"Yeah, got that part," Daryl said, leaning back, "Meant why you were half off your rocker the other night."

"Glenn," she said, and suddenly he felt a cold sort of anxiety seep into his gut. He wasn't sure where she was going with this, and he wasn't sure he liked it, "Over the past six months Aziza has gotten seven hit jobs, he passed off two of them. Glenn and Christopher were killed by someone else, but all the orders came down from the same person."

She set the soup aside, and picked the emails back up, and started leafing through them.

"If I can figure out who that one person is, I can solve all of them, and…" she held out the stack to him, pointing to one email, "Now I can do that."

He scanned over it, it wasn't fancy or detailed, just a couple of lines naming a time and a place. He didn't know the address, but apparently the meeting was today. His brow furrowed slightly, and it was soon. Sooner than a proper team could be pulled together, or warrants drawn up.

"That email's from the same guy," Beth continued, ignoring his unease, "He was supposed to meet Aziza today, and we haven't publicized his arrest yet which means -"

"The guy wouldn't know not to come."

"Exactly!" She grinned, jumping up. She swayed a little on her feet, and he stood ready to grab her, but she waved him off as she carried her bowl into the kitchen, "If I can get down there, just see who it is, take some pictures or something - we'll have him," she said, that smile never fading.

That is, until he said, "No."

"Daryl, I'm feeling better," Beth argued, breathing heavily through her nose, "See, no more stuffies."

"Ain't about you being sick," he growled, tossing his bowl in the sink and taking his keys from his pocket. He needed to get going. A hand closed around his arm before he could even get halfway to the door, and he turned to find Beth glaring up at him.

"Then what is it about?" She asked, and he could tell she was starting to get pissed.

"It ain't safe." He didn't want her name to show up in one of those emails, he didn't want to find her bled out on the floor like Carol. Didn't want to find her hanging like Glenn. She hadn't been the one to find him, didn't know what that shit did to a person...he didn't know if he could handle it happening again. He pulled out of her grip and started for the door.

"Daryl, I have to go!" She chased after him, "This isn't just some case this is Glenn! This is the whole reason I came down here!"

"No," he said, pulling on his suit jacket, "We ain't gonna just bust in there, gonna do this carefully."

"I don't have time to do it carefully!" She argued, stepping in close blue eyes flaring up at him. He glared down at her, trying to match every bit of fire. There wasn't a way in hell he was letting her go find them...he didn't have the strength to go through that again.

"Then we ain't gonna do it," he said, voice low. She was only inches from him now, and he could feel the familiar warmth on his skin. He tried to shake it off, he was supposed to be pissed right now.

"They killed Glenn!" She snapped, and he could smell the toothpaste on her breath.

"Then what the hell makes ya think they won't kill you too?" He yelled back, and suddenly she stopped. Just stood there, watching him with those big blue eyes like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. Fingers grazed his palm, then laced through his, and he tried to find his breath - tried to find the argument he'd been having.

"I'm not going to die Daryl, I won't leave you." She believed those words. That didn't mean they were true. She knew about Carol, she knew about his scars, she knew him. Every damn person who'd ever _known _him left one day. They went up in flames, or went to war, or got shot in the head, and he'd always kept going...but she was different.

He didn't respond, just watched her. How close she was, how much he want to hold her, how much the determined fire in her eyes was scaring him. His gaze went lower, from eyes to nose, from nose to lips. His breath caught, god she was so close. He tilted his head ever so slightly, watching her, trying to figure out why the hell he was so scared of losing _her. _

Why when he wanted to be pissed, his eyes just kept finding her lips.

"Daryl, I'll be okay."

"You can't know that."

She met his eyes, swallowing hard as she took a deep breath, "Fine...we'll take it slow," she didn't seem to be happy saying those words, but she'd said them, "I'm not going anywhere, Daryl."

He could've left right then, could've let go of her hand, but instead he just stood there eyes trailing down to lips one last time. _Don't be stupid, Dixon. _He had to remind himself as he let go of her, and dazedly walked out the door.

* * *

><p>He spent the rest of the day working in the office, happy to know she was safe at home, not running headlong and blind into something that could get her killed. There were other ways to get this guy, he'd already looked up the address - some warehouse in the industrial district - found the security cameras around the entrances, the surrounding streets. He'd go in, he'd come back out, they'd get his face and they'd get him.<p>

Didn't need to risk life and limb over it.

He'd go home tonight with a name for her, and she wouldn't have to get herself killed over justice for a dead man. He shook his head, when the hell had he gotten his head so wrapped up in all of this? He couldn't let himself go farther, get even more tangled, but he could make sure she stayed safe.

The phone rang, and he picked up, "Dixon."

"Daryl?" Lori's voice came over the phone, "I thought I told you to get Beth to stay home today, she needs her rest."

He blinked, what'd she mean she wasn't at home? "Where is she?"

"Well how should I know?" He heard her shuffling something around, like she was in a fridge, "I mean I got here..." It didn't surprise him in the slightest that Lori was going through his fridge, he didn't even bother to comment, she was probably just throwing out the expired shit, "and I had lunch, and was going to check on her, but she's just not in the house."

He glanced down at the time, and his stomach dropped. He didn't even say goodbye to Lori, just hung up, made sure his gun was in its holster, and ran for the door.

* * *

><p>She didn't think she'd lied to Daryl...not technically. Mislead him, yes, but she hadn't lied. She'd just said they'd take it slow, she didn't specify an exact time frame. Instead she just made sure to be careful, and show up an hour and a half early. It didn't take long to find the warehouse, took effort to push the rusting door open and closed again, but at least she was here. The place was empty, just one big room with nothing but support pillars.<p>

She'd been hoping for more places to hide, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about staking out the wrong room. She'd have to be quiet, and she'd keep her gun ready, just in case, but she thought this could work.

Picking out a thick concrete pillar to sit behind, she settled in to wait. She felt bad about misleading Daryl, he'd been so concerned...no, no not concerned he'd seemed scared. He'd seemed genuinely scared she'd be hurt, which was odd, because she didn't see him scared often. He'd let her hold his hand, and he'd never pulled away, and for a second she could've sworn he was going to kiss her, and of everything in the world he was scared for her.

It was a bit of an 'Oh' moment...what if the tingles and lingering glances, the warmth she'd felt when he held her, what if that was something more than a silly crush? What if he felt it too?

She jumped slightly when she heard the door start to grumble open, and she quickly stood, back to her pillar, and inched to the side. She needed a face, she needed to see the guy's face. A name would be even better.

Peeking her head around the corner her heart soared, she had a face and a name immediately. Tate Hogan, it was Tate Hogan - the bastard had gotten out on bail, but she didn't think the judge was going to go for that now...not when someone else was dead already. Holding her gun steady she got ready to jump out, make the arrest. She almost did it too, but something made her pause.

Two guys followed in behind Hogan, two big guys, both looking well armed. She didn't have the advantage here, she was going to have to stay put. Her heart was beating a little faster, and the adrenaline kept her alert as minutes drifted by, and still she never heard the door open again. Aziza wasn't showing up.

She peeked around the corner again, Tate was getting impatient, pacing back and forth as his men watched.

"Where the hell is Aziza?" He asked, anger mixing with nerves as he wrung his hands. Beth smirked a little, Aziza wasn't coming.

His guys shrugged, watching him with something that resembled amusement.

"_He _won't be pleased with this - this is a big job, a big big job, important. _He'll_ have Aziza's ass on a plate for this," a hysterical little laugh bubbled up, "hell _he _might even have our asses for this - or worse, La Familia or Los Zetas. There's a lot of powerful people tied up in this, a lot of money -" He was ranting now, nervously going on and on. He'd dropped the names of more than one big cartel, but who was _he?_

"You think you should be telling us this then?" One of the guys asked jokingly, "Ain't exactly top dogs over here."

Hogan glared, but he shut up. Maybe they weren't his men, maybe they were his bosses, _his. _Whoever _he _was, but these guys didn't seem to have that much respect for Hogan. She'd be surprised if anyone did, he was kind of a weasel.

She had what she needed: a face and a name. Still didn't know who'd given the order, but she had the middleman, it was a start. Now she just had to wait until they gave up and left, and she could go back home. Daryl would be pissed when he found out she'd gone, but she'd be okay, and he couldn't stay mad forever.

All she had to was be - a sudden cough forced it's way up through her chest...quiet.

"What was that?" Hogan asked, there was a moment of silence as she held her breath, "Shumpert, go check it out."

_Shit, _she thought, holding her gun tighter. There were three men out there, at least two of whom had guns, she couldn't hold them off on her own. She wasn't rambo, she wasn't an expert marksman like Daryl...she couldn't one, two, three take them all down at once. Shumpert was getting closer, footsteps coming steadily towards her hiding place.

She had to run.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around her. There was a back exit, a pillar ever two hundred feet between here and there. If she could just get to the next pillar, take it one step at a time, lay down some fire to hold them off as she went. Shumpert was close, a few more steps and he would see her.

This was it.

Heart pounding she raced forward just as the shot rang out.

* * *

><p>The motorcycle cut off at the same time as the gun did, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. It had come from inside the warehouse, just one shot. Just one, it wasn't a firefight, they weren't chasing someone down. They only had to shoot once. His breath stopped, his heart stopped, waiting for another gun shot waiting for her to fight back...but she didn't.<p>

He didn't hear a damn thing.

He had to get in there, he had to find her, she might not be dead. Could have been shot in the belly like Sophia, bleeding out on the floor. He pulled his gun, ready to sprint across the street, whoever was in there be damned...when he saw them. Three men walking briskly out of the warehouse, Tate Hogan in the lead with a nervous look on his face.

He waited just long enough for them to turn the corner, and then he was running. The door slammed open as he frantically scanned the empty floor.

"Beth!" He yelled, there was no body, no blood, no her, "Beth!" He started running again, had she fallen behind a pillar, he kept seeing little red hand prints, and dead blue eyes, and he was desperately trying to keep faith that there was still fire in hers. That she wouldn't be just another dead girl for Dale to pester him about.

Then he saw her, bright red staining blond hair, and he felt like his chest was caving in. She looked so small on the ground...so still. His throat was starting to tighten when he heard it, a cough.

"Beth!" He slid down next to her, hands going to her side, her face. She was breathing, there was blood, but her eyes were open. Dazed, and in pain, but open. It was a graze, just a graze. Only just deep enough to get it bleeding.

"See," she smiled hazily, as she struggled to sit, "I'm okay."

He wanted to be mad, he wanted to be furious, but right then all he could do was pull her to her feet, and half drag half carry her out to the street. Cause right then he was scared.

* * *

><p>They hadn't even made her stay overnight at the hospital, just stitched up the side of her head and let her go home. Daryl had gone into the bathroom the moment walked through the door, the shower had been running for the past twenty minutes. She felt bad, she did, but she thought he was being unreasonable. This was their job. It was dangerous, and messy, and what they'd signed up for.<p>

They just had to make the best of it.

Finally the shower cut off, and she heard him getting dressed. Her heart was beating a tad faster...whether she thought he should be angry or not, didn't mean she liked it when he was. The door opened, and bright blue eyes met hers with something that wasn't quite anger, but wasn't exactly forgiveness either. He just seemed kind of tired.

There was a long silence as he walked past her into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer.

"Did he see you?" He asked finally, watching her quietly.

"What?" Did who see her?

"Hogan, did he see your face?" His jaw was tight, and it looked like he was doing his best to keep his cool. Yeah, maybe she'd fucked up a bit where he was concerned.

"I...I don't know...it doesn't matter," Beth brushed it off. She was alive, and she had Daryl, and right now she didn't feel like questioning the situation. She had a lead, she was close, that was what mattered.

"Doesn't matter huh?" A bit of temper seeped into his voice, "Why the hell do you think Glenn got killed? They figured out that he was onto them. If Hogan knows it was you, who do you think they're gonna go after next?"

"It'll be okay Daryl," she tried to reassure him, though she wasn't even sure if she believed herself now.

He looked like he wanted to say something, to call her out on the lie. He didn't though, instead he was quiet, watching her, gaze starting to itch under her skin.

"I'm sorry -"

"But you're not sorry?" He finished for her.

"Yeah…" She felt horrible. She really did, but this was bigger than them...this was her whole family, this was the families of six other people who'd lost the ones they loved to _him _whoever _he _was. This was their job.

"Daryl you have to understand, I'm so close to solving this - I couldn't...I couldn't just let this slip out of my fingers I had him!"

"Yeah?" He looked at her bitterly, "And we would've had him you'd waited, already knew what CCTV cameras to pull...we would've gotten him."

"No, no we wouldn't have," she shook her head, "It's not Tate, Daryl, it's someone else out there, someone bigger. If I hadn't been there we would've just arrested Hogan and that bastard would still be running around somewhere."

He was quiet for a while, not meeting her eyes as he absentmindedly fiddled with the paper label on the beer bottle.

"You could've died today," he said.

"I didn't."

His shoulders shook with a brief, silent laugh, "Scared the hell out of me, girl."

"I'm sorry." She really meant it that time.

* * *

><p>Beth needed her earrings, the little silver ones with the loopies. Lori had decided to throw a 'Beth didn't die' dinner. It was semi formal, and those earrings were the only ones that went with the dress she was wearing. She'd searched all over her room at Maggie's house, in Maggie's room, all the little key dishes down stairs, and she was at a loss. She'd gotten to the point where she was opening the same three drawers over and over again as if it would do any good.<p>

She'd ask Maggie if she could, but Maggie was still at work.

So instead she'd taken to haplessly searching in places she knew she wouldn't find them. This time it was the linen closet. What her earrings would be doing in a linen closet she had no idea, but it was worth a shot.

Frowning she stuck her hand up on the highest shelf, blindly patting at Maggie's old 'I don't actually like this guest, but have to put up with them,' sheets, when she felt something out of place. It wasn't her earrings, but something bigger. Something familiar.

Frowning she pulled it down. It was a box, a little blue, ceramic wish box decorated in shells and stones off the beach. It had been Glenn's, Beth knew, because she'd been the one to give it to him. A souvenir from a summer vacation years ago, back when she was in college. It had been all she could afford, but she thought Glenn would like it. He liked silly little things like that.

What on earth had it been doing all the way up there?

She smiled softly, sliding open the top, and then frowned. It wasn't empty...no wishes, but it had a thumb drive.

**I'm really tired, and just need to post this and go to bed, so I'll keep this AN short. I hope y'all liked the chapter, and once again I apologize for the wait. I can't wait to hear back from you guys!**


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